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"By  this  shall  all  men  know  that  ye  are  my  disciples,  if  ye  have  love 
one  to  another." — John  xiii.  35. 


CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  THE 
ANCIENT    CHURCH 


BY 

Db.  gerhaed  uhlhorn 

ABBOT  OF  LOCCUM: 


ffnmslaitb  from  l^e  (Strmatt 
WITS  TSE  AUTHOR'S  SANCTION 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES    SCRIBNER'S    SONS 

1883 


Digitized  by  tine  Internet  Arciiive 

in  2007  witii  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


littp://www.arcliive.org/details/cliristiancliarityOOulilliiala 


TABLE    OF    CONTENTS. 


BOOK    FIRST. 
THE    OLD    AND    THE    NEW. 

I.  A  'World  without  Love,  .... 

IL  Under  the  Law,  .  .  .  •  . 

III.  The  Manifestation  of  Love  in  Christ  Jesus,     .  . 

IV.  Commencement  and  Foundations  in  the  Apostolic  Age, 


PAGS 

2 

44 
56 
73 


BOOK    SECOND. 

THE    AGE    OF    CONFLICT. 


L  Poverty  and  Distress,  .            .           .            .           . 

99 

II.  First  Love,       ..... 

.       120 

III.  The  Means  for  the  Relief  of  the  Poor, 

.       141 

IV.  Officials  and  Offices  for  Charity,          .            . 

.       160 

V.  The  Work  and  its  Eesults,       .            .            . 

.      178 

VI.  Obscurations,  ..... 

.      203 

CONTENTS. 


BOOK    THIED. 
AFTER    THE    VICTORY. 


CHAP. 

I.  A  Perishing  World,      .            ,            .            .            . 

PAOB 

219 

II.  Congregational  Relief  of  the  Poor,       .            .            .            . 

246 

III.  Alms, 

274 

IV.  Hospitals,        ...,,.. 

323 

V.  Monasteries,    ....... 

338 

VI.  The  Church  the  Refuge  of  all  the  Oppressed  and  Suffering,    . 

361 

Notes  to  Book  I.,        •           •           .           .           .            . 

399 

Notes  to  Book  II.,      .....            . 

403 

Notes  to  Book  III.      »•»•.. 

411 

IliOEZ,                •.••*.. 

421 

BOOK    FIEST. 


THE    OLD   AND    THE   NEW. 


CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  THE  ANCIENT 
CHURCH. 


CHAPTER    L 

A  WORLD  WITHOUT  LOVE. 

Our  Lord  calls  the  commandment  of  love  which  He  gave 
to  His  disciples  a  new  commandment  (John  xiii,  34). 
And  such  indeed  it  was,  for  the  world  before  Christ  came 
was  a  world  without  love.  Lactantius,  writing  at  the 
time  when,  after  a  struggle  which  had  lasted  for  cen- 
turies, Christianity  had  at  length  obtained  the  upper  hand, 
lays  great  emphasis  upon  this  difference  between  the 
Christian  and  the  heathen  world,  saying :  "  Compas- 
sion and  humanity  are  virtues  peculiar  to  the  righteous 
and  to  the  worshippers  of  God.  Philosophy  teaches 
us  nothing  of  them."  ^  And  should  this  witness,  as 
coming  from  one  who  was  himself  a  Christian,  appear 
suspicious,  there  is  still  quite  trustworthy  evidence  in 
the  astonishment  with  which  the  heathen  regarded  the 
charitableness  of  the  Christians,  which  seemed  so  strange 
to  them ;  and  a  still  stronger  witness  may  be  seen  in  the 
endeavour  of  the  Emperor  Julian  to  introduce  into 
heathendom  this  new  thing,  which  he  could  not  but 
recognise  as  a  peculiarity  of  Christianity. 


4  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  1 

And  yet  the  opinion  as  to  the  world  before  the 
Christian  era,  that  it  was  a  world  without  love,  requires 
some  explanation,  and  in  a  certain  sense  some  modifica- 
tion as  well.  Of  isolated  acts  springing  from  natural 
pity  there  was  never  any  want.  There  was  at  all  times 
a  gift  ready  for  the  beggar,  and  that  even  after  the  idea 
that  beggars  and  those  in  distress  were  under  the  special 
protection  of  the  gods,  had  long  lost  its  force.  In  Eome 
and  in  the  other  great  towns  numerous  beggars  were  to 
be  found  sitting  at  the  corners  of  the  streets,  on  the 
bridges,  before  the  gates  of  the  temples,  and  in  general 
wherever  the  traffic  was  most  lively ;  and  the  passers-by 
readily  threw  them  some  small  coin,  whilst  the  beggars 
acknowledged  the  gift  with  a  blessing  in  tlie  name  of 
some  one  or  other  of  the  gods.  Begging  had  never  been 
prohibited  in  the  Eoman  Empire ;  the  first  edict  against 
it  proceeded  from  a  Christian  Emperor.  And,  indeed, 
how  could  men  see  in  begging  a  punishable  offence,  so 
long  as  thej  did  not  see  that  in  work  there  lay  a  duty 
to  be  performed  by  all  ?  Towards  travellers,  those  who 
had  been  wrecked  at  sea,  and  all  others  in  distress,  the 
general  attitude  was  one  of  generosity ;  and  in  great 
calamities  there  was  never  a  lack  of  assistance  and  relief 
even  from  distant  quarters.  When,  in  the  reign  of  Nero, 
the  great  amphitheatre  at  Fidense  fell  in  and  buried 
beneath  its  ruins  50,Q00  men,  the  wealthy  Romans 
despatched  physicians  and  all  kinds  of  medical  appliances 
to  the  scene  of  the  disaster,  and  received  the  wounded 
into  their  houses.^  At  the  eruption  of  Vesuvius,  in  the 
year  79  a.d.,  when  Herculaneum  and  Pompeii  were 
overwhelmed,  the  readiness  to  relieve  the  distress  was 
universal.  But  it  is  remarkable  that  upon  the  whole  we 
hear  of  but  few  similar  instances ;  and  still  more  remarkable 


CHAP.  I.]  A  WORLD  WITHOUT  LOVK  5 

are  the  occasional  expressions  of  opinion  on  the  subject. 
"  Canst  thou  by  any  means  condescend  so  far  as  that  the 
poor  shall  not  appear  to  tliee  loathsome  ? "  asks  Quinc- 
•  tilian ;  and  in  one  of  the  plays  of  Plautus  we  meet  with 
the  following,  which  is  surely  the  expression  of  the 
general  sentiment :  "  He  does  the  beggar  but  a  bad 
service  who  gives  him  meat  and  drink  ;  for  what  he  gives 
is  lost,  and  the  life  of  the  poor  is  but  prolonged  to  their 
own  misery."^  Moreover,  in  however  great  abundance 
isolated  acts  of  compassion  may  have  been  done,  the  main 
point  is  this,  that  there  is  no  trace  whatever  of  any 
organized  charity.  It  is  not  that  here  and  there  Christians 
gave  gifts  to  the  poor,  or  that  they  here  and  there 
assisted  those  in  distress :  the  new  thinw  the  thing 
hitherto  unknown  in  the  world,  was  rather  tliat  in  the 
Christian  communities  there  was  organized  a  regular 
system  of  charity,  designed  not  only  to  relieve  the  distress 
of  the  poor  for  the  moment,  but  also  to  war  against 
poverty  itself,  and  to  suffer  no  one  to  be  oppressed  by 
want.  And  what  in  the  old  world  was  done  with  regard 
to  this  matter,  either  by  the  State  or  from  the  resources 
of  individuals,  is  of  quite  a  different  character.  A  special 
oversight  of  the  poor,  such  as  we  are  accustomed  to,  was 
at  no  time  and  at  no  place  known  to  the  ancient  world. 

A  good  deal  was  indeed  done.  When  Boeckh^  says : 
"  Compassion  is  no  Hellenic  virtue,"  we  assent  to  what 
"  he  says,  and  must  even  add  to  his  statement  this,  that  it 
is  still  less  a  Eoman  virtue.  But  we  must  not  forget  that 
liberality  was  one  of  the  virtues  exercised  in  the  ancient 
world  in  the  fullest  measure.  Men  gave  generously  to 
their  friends,  to  their  relatives,  and  to  tiieir  guests.  The 
giving  of  presents  was  much  more  customary  than  it  is 
amongst  us.     A  man  displayed  his  liberality  towards  his 


6  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  I 

native  city,  his  fellow-citizens,  or  his  fellow-members  in 
the  guild  or  club  to  which  he  belonged,  or  of  which  he  was 
chosenas  patron.  To  the  latteroffice,indeed,he  was  elected 
avowedly  with  an  eye  to  the  liberal  donations  which  were 
expected  from  him.  What  abundance  of  donations  of  all 
kinds  is  revealed  to  us  by  inscriptions  !  Here  one  man 
builds  for  his  native  city  a  new  theatre,  or  a  house  for  gladia- 
torial shows,  rebuilds  the  ruined  walls,  or  constructs  a  new 
road,  aqueduct,  or  fountain.  Another  makes  it  his  care  to 
see  that  grain  shall  always  be  sold  at  a  low  price,  or  gives 
corn,  wine,  and  oil  to  be  distributed ;  provides  games  and 
banquets  for  his  fellow-citizens ;  erects  baths  where  one 
may  bathe  for  nothing,  and  in  many  cases  also  receive 
oil  for  anointing  oneself  gratis.  He  founds  a  library,  or 
whatever  else  it  may  be.  No  man  of  means,  who  would 
worthily  fill  his  position  in  the  State  or  in  his  native 
town,  can  absolve  himself  from  the  duty  of  voluntarily 
giving  up  a  share  of  his  wealth  for  the  benefit  of  his 
fellow-citizens,  or  for  the  public  weal.  And  this  spirit  of 
liberality  extends  even  beyond  the  grave.  Legacies  and 
testamentary  endowments  are  frequent,  and  require 
special  legislation.  It  is  customary  to  give  legacies  to 
one's  friends,  and  to  the  higher  officials.  Frequently  we 
read  of  stipulations  in  wills,  in  accordance  with  which  on 
an  appointed  day,  usually  the  birthday  of  the  testator,  a 
banquet  is  partaken  of  at  his  grave,  and  sums  of  money 
are  distributed  amongst  those  present.  The  custom 
amongst  the  Eomans,  of  honouring  the  dead  by  coni- 
memorating  their  acts  of  generosity  in  the  inscriptions  on 
their  tombstones,  gives  us  a  glimpse  of  an  abundance  of 
donations  and  endowments  which  by  no  means  falls 
behind  anything  of  the  same  kind  done  in  our  own  day. 
And  all  this  at  last  found  its  climax  in  the  liberal  gifts 


CHAP.  I.]  A  WORLD  WITHOUT  LOVE.  7 

of  the  Emperor  and  of  the  State,  where  it  becomes  a  case 
of  dealing  with  millions. 

No  doubt  this  kind  of  liberality  had  in  some  measure 
the  same  effect  as  that  of  subsidies  for  the  relief  of  the 
poor.  It  was  always  of  assistance  to  those  of  small 
means,  that  they  should  obtain  bread  at  a  cheap  rate,  or 
grain  as  a  gift,  or  that  they  should  receive  a  share  in  the 
distribution  of  gifts  of  money.  But  it  was,  for  all  that, 
something  quite  diffei'ent  from  a  system  of  poor  relief. 
Liberality  is  the  heathen  virtue  which  corresponds  to  the 
compassionate  love,  the  caritas  of  Christianity ;  but  it  is 
just  as  different  from  that  love  as  is  heathendom  itself 
from  Christianity.  The  compassionate  love  of  the 
Christian  looks  at  necessity  as  the  first  thing ;  it  cares 
not  to  inquire  who  the  needy  man  may  be  in  other 
respects,  but  is  rather  concerned  to  know  whether  he  be 
really  in  distress.  In  the  case  of  liberality,  necessity 
falls  altogether  into  the  background.  Presents  are  made 
and  given,  not  with  a  view  to  the  relief  of  distress,  but 
rather  with  an  eye  to  pleasing  the  recipient ;  and  even  in 
cases  where  the  necessaries  of  daily  life  constitute  the 
substance  of  the  gift,  no  inquiry  is  made  into  the  needs 
of  individuals.  The  citizen  receives  his  share,  even 
although  he  has  no  need  of  it ;  the  non-citizen  remains 
shut  out,  however  great  his  necessities  may  be.  For  the 
most  part,  the  presents  are  limited  to  the  circle  of  the 
citizens ;  and  where  they  go  beyond  this  limit,  where 
strangers  also  have  a  share  in  the  distribution  of  corn, 
and  a  place  at  the  banquets,  or  where  a  bath  stands  free 
and  open  for  strangers  and  travellers,  this  is  due  not  to 
any  regard  for  their  possible  wants,  but  simply  to  a  desire 
to  enhance  the  splendour  of  the  liberality.  It  is  note- 
worthy that    wherever   any  proportion    in    the    gifts  is 


8  CHRISTIAN  CHAEITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  I. 

mentioned,  it  is  stipulated,  either  that  all  shall  receive 
the  same  amount,  or  that  the  higher  personages,  such  as 
the  municipal  officers,  or  the  presidents  of  the  guilds, 
shall  receive  double  or  threefold,*^  being  thus  in  the 
inverse  ratio  of  the  necessities  of  the  case ;  for  tliose 
obtained  the  most  who  should  properly  have  received 
least,  as  being  the  least  in  need  of  the  gift.  It  is 
noteworthy,  further,  that  every  one  accepts  his  share 
without  hesitation,  even  when  he  does  not  stand  in  need 
of  it.  Men  were  then  by  no  means  so  dubious  about 
accepting  gifts  as  they  are  now-a-days.  Supposing  that 
in  our  time,  at  the  celebration  of  the  coming  of  age  of 
some  heir,  every  one  present  was  presented  with  a  small 
gift  of  money,  we  should  hesitate  within  ourselves  as 
to  whether  we  should  accept  it.  In  those  days  every 
one  accepted  it.  Hence  it  came  to  pass  that  even 
well-to-do  men  accepted  their  share  in  the  distribution 
of  grain,  or  allowed  their  freedmen  to  fetch  it  away  in 
their  stead ;  indeed,  they  even  took  their  share  of  the 
money  distributed  to  the  guests  in  the  more  distinguished 
men's  houses.  It  was  never  for  a  moment  considered  as 
an  alms,  and  indeed  it  was  not  such.  The  fundamental 
distinction  between  the  ancient  liba^alitas  and  the 
Christian  caritas  lies  in  this,  that  the  latter  always  keeps 
in  view  the  welfare  of  the  poor  and  needy ;  to  help  them 
is  its  only  object ;  whereas  the  Eoman,  who  exercises  the 
virtue  of  liberality,  considers  in  reality  himself  alone 
(I  do  not  mean  always  in  a  bad  sense),  and  exercises  his 
liberality  as  a  bribe  wherewith  to  win  the  favours  of  the 
multitude.  Nor  does  he  always  exercise  it  in  the  spirit 
of  common  vanity,  but  in  order  that  it  may  be  the  means 
of  displaying  and  increasing  the  splendour  of  his  name, 
of  his  position,  and  of  his  house,  or,  what  he  considered 


CHAP,  l]  a  world  without  LOVE.  9 

of  just  as  much  importance,  the  splendours  of  his  native 
city,  and  of  the  municipal  community.  Christian  charity 
is  self-denying ;  heathen  liheralitas  is  at  bottom  self- 
seeking,  even  although  personal  selfishness  be  limited  by 
the  interests  of  the  commonwealth,  for  the  sake  of  which 
Greek  and  Eoman  alike  were  at  all  times  prepared  to 
make  a  sacrifice. 

That  a  sense  of  one's  duty  to  the  poor,  such  as  has 
been  introduced  by  the  Christian  caritas,  could  not  grow 
up  out  of  the  heathen  liheralitas,  is  sufficiently  clear. 
One  must  rather  say  that  we  find  a  number  of  regula- 
tions, not  in  the  least  connected  with  it ;  but  in  the 
development  of  these  we  can  find  traces  of  a  stream  as 
it  were  flowing  out  from  heathendom  over  this  tract  of 
life,  towards  the  tide  of  advancing  Christianity. 

The  nearest  approach  to  an  actual  system  of  poor 
relief  seems  to  be  what  was  done  in  Athens  for 
necessitous  citizens.  As  a  rule,  the  Greek  is  by  natural 
disposition  more  inclined  to  benevolence  than  the 
Eoman,  in  whose  characteristic  traits  one  finds  a  certain 
sort  of  meanness,  not  to  say  avarice ;  whence  he  is  colder 
and  more  selfish  than  the  Greek.  At  Athens,  those  who 
through  bodily  weakness  or  infirmity  were  unable  to  gain 
their  own  livelihood,  such  as  the  blind,  the  lame,  and  the 
crippled,  received  a  daily  subsidy  of  two  oholi.  This 
subsidy  was  by  law  restricted  to  those  whose  means 
amounted  to  less  than  three  mince.  The  vote  for  it 
depended  upon  the  popular  will.  Inquiry  into  each 
individual  case  rested  with  the  Coumiil  of  the  Five 
Hundred.*  The  orphans  of  citizens  who  had  fallen  in 
war  were  brought  up  at  the  expense  of  the  State — in  the 
case  of  boys  till  they  were  eighteen  years  old,  at  which 
age  they  were  dismissed  fully  equipped.     And  orphans 


10  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.         [bOOK  I. 

in  general  were  treated  with  special  leniency,  their 
property  not  being  liable  to  any  property-tax/  All  this 
is  peculiar  to  Athens,  and  is  not  found  elsewhere.  And 
hence  in  old  times  Athens  had  this  to  her  credit,  that  no 
one  of  her  citizens  ever  lacked  the  necessities  of  life,  or 
brought  shame  upon  the  State  by  begging  from  visitors.^ 
Later  on,  when  Athens  sank  into  a  wild  democracy,  it 
became  the  practice  of  the  popular  leaders  to  flatter  and 
cajole  the  sovereign  rabble  by  distributing  amongst  it 
by  way  of' gift  the  State  moneys.  Thus  Themistocles 
divided  the  revenues  drawn  from  working  the  mines. 
Next  came  the  moneys  for  the  theatres,  the  so-called 
Theorikai  ^ — a  true  curse  of  Athens.  Each  citizen 
received  two  dboli  as  entrance  money  to  the  theatre. 
For  attending  the  popular  assemblies  he  was  paid  three 
oboli,  and  he  also  received  as  much,  as  pay  for  sitting 
in  the  courts  of  justice ;  and  as  every  day  about  one-third 
of  the  people  sat  in  the  courts,  the  consequence  was 
that  they  desisted  from  work  more  and  more,  that  they 
fell  lower  both  in  economy  and  in  morals,  and  thus, 
when  the  disastrous  issue  of  the  Peloponnesian  war  put 
an  end  to  her  supremacy,  Athens,  once  so  flourishing  and 
prosperous,  sank  into  the  lowest  poverty. 

What  was  given  to  the  people  at  Athens  at  the  cost 
of  the  State  was  altogether  insignificant  compared  with 
what  was  distributed  at  Eome.  While  in  the  case  of 
the  former  we  have  to  deal  with  the  comparatively  small 
sums  exacted  by  the  Athenians  from  their  allies,  in  the 
case  of  the  latter  we  have  to  deal  with  the  spoils  of  a 
conquered  world,  their  share  of  which  was  received  by  the 
people  in  the  shape  of  distributions  of  money,  Congiaria, 
banquets,  and  theatrical  displays. 

The  providing  of  the    city  of    Eome  with    corn,  tha 


CHAP.  1.]  A  WOELD  WITHOUT  LOVE.  11 

Annona,  is  one  of  the  greatest  achievements  ever  accom- 
plished by  statesmanship.  The  grain  was  partly  collected 
from  the  various  provinces,  partly  bought  up  by  the 
State,  and  was  brought  to  Rome  by  a  fleet  of  vessels 
specially  set  aside  for  the  purpose ;  once  there,  it  was 
stored  up  in  granaries,  and  afterwards  distributed.  It 
was  the  duty  of  a  whole  host  of  officials  to  exercise  the 
necessary  foresight  in  providing  grain  for  feeding  the 
metropolis  of  the  world ;  a  famine  in  Rome  would  have 
shattered  the  whole  Empire.  In  the  earlier  times  it  was 
thought  suflicient  if  the  price  of  grain  was  maintained  at 
a  low  rate.  Caius  Gracchus  first  of  all  ordained  that  the 
Roman  bushel  of  wheat  should  be  sold  to  citizens  at 
6  as,  which  was  far  under  cost  price  ;  later  on,  Clodius  pro- 
cured an  enactment  whereby  a  certain  quantity  was  dis- 
tributed gratis.  The  consequence  was  that  impoverished 
citizens  flocked  to  Rome  in  crowds.  Whereas  in  the 
year  73  before  Christ  the  price  of  the  grain  distributed 
in  Rome  amounted  to  ten  million  sesterces  (£87,700), 
in  the  year  46  after  Christ  it  had  already  amounted 
to  nearly  seventy-seven  million  sesterces  (£675,000). 
Csesar  found  that  there  were  320,000  men  who  received 
this  grant  of  corn;  he  reduced  the  number  to  150,000, 
and  decreed  that  this  should  never  be  exceeded.  Only 
upon  the  occurrence  of  vacancies  through  death  could  new 
names  be  added  to  the  list.  Soon  afterwards,  however, 
Augustus  found  that  the  number  on  the  list  had  again 
increased,  and  he  reduced  it  to  200,000,  which  appears 
to  have  remained  the  normal  number  thereafter.  The 
only  necessary  conditions  upon  which  participation  in 
the  distribution  rested  were  Roman  citizenship  and  resi- 
dence in  Rome,  In  no  case  was  inquiry  made  into  the 
question  of  deserving  it  or  not.     Nor  do  the  well-to-do 


12  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.         [book  I. 

appear  to  have  been  excluded  by  law ;  in  order,  however, 
to  be  put  on  the  list,  it  was  necessary  to  make  applica- 
tion ;  and  .the  wealthy,  at  any  rate  in  later  times,  would 
not  have  made  this  application.  On  this  account  those 
who  obtained  grants  of  corn  were  often  known  as  the 
poor.^°  Whoever  had  his  name  upon  the  list  received  a 
ticket  (tessera),  which  entitled  him  to  draw  from  the 
granaries  five  bushels  monthly.  In  addition  to  this, 
there  were  distributions  every  now  and  then  of  oil,  salt, 
meat,  and  even  of  clothing.  From  the  time  of  Septimius 
Severus  oil  was  regularly  given  out.^^  Aurelian  added 
pork,  and  wished  to  have  wine  distributed  also ;  but  from 
this  latter  purpose  he  desisted  on  representation*  being 
made  to  him  by  the  prmfectus  prcetorii  that  in  that  case 
the  people  would  soon  be  clamouring  for  roast  fowls.^^ 
The  distribution  of  grain  in  natura  probably  came  to  an 
end  under  Alexander  Severus.  It  is  not  quite  clear 
whether  it  was  at  once  succeeded  by  the  distribution  of 
bread.  It  is  very  possible  that  during  the  troublous 
times  the  distribution  may  have  ceased  altogether  for 
some  years.  From  the  time  of  Aurelian  ^^  onwards  bread 
was  given  out  instead  of  corn,  each  man  receiving  two 
pounds  of  bread  a  day  (panis  gradilis).  This  distribution 
of  bread  lasted  on  into  the  last  year  of  the  Empire. 
Moreover,  Trajan  had  founded  in  Eome  a  guild  of  bakers, 
who  were  under  the  superintendence  of  the  officers  of  the 
Annona,  and  who  obtained  corn  from  the  public  granaries 
at  a  very  cheap  rate,  but  who  were  bound  in  return  for 
this  privilege  to  bake  good  and  cheap  bread." 

The  motives  which  called  into  existence  this  practice 
of  distributing  grain  were  not  by  any  means  of  a  charit- 
able, but,  on  the  contrary,  of  a  purely  political  nature. 
Gracchus  and  Clodius  hoped  to  win  over  the  people  by 


CHAP.  I.]  A  WORLD  WITHOUT  LOVE.  13 

their  corn  laws.  And  both  Caesar  and  Augustus  were 
influenced  by  political  motives  when  they  directed  special 
attention  to  this  branch  of  the  government.  Knowing  as 
they  did  that  hunger  has  at  all  times  been  a  most  power- 
ful agent  in  promoting  revolution,  they  wished  to  make 
the  people  as  content  as  possible  under  their  loss  of 
liberty.  But  we  must  not  on  that  account  close  our  eyes 
to  the  fact  that  such  regulations  as  those  for  restricting 
the  number  of  participants,  and  the  confining  of  them  to 
those  citizens  who  made  application,  bear  somewhat  of 
a  different  character.  It  became  in  the  course  of  the 
Empire  a  sort  of  system  of  poor  relief,  though  a  very 
undesirable  and  one-sided  one.  But  it  is,  for  all  that,  one 
of  those  symptoms  from  which  we  can  learn  that  some- 
thing new  was  beginning  to  make  itself  felt  even  within 
the  confines  of  heathenism  itself.^** 

Nor  were  the  distributions  of  grain  the  only  way  in 
which  the  people  received  their  share  of  the  spoils  of 
the  conquered  world.  Of  no  less  importance  were  the 
largesses  of  the  emperors,  the  Congiaria  and  the  dona- 
tions. At  every  accession  to  the  throne,  at  the  celebra- 
tions of  the  fifth  or  tenth  years  of  a  reign,  on  the 
occasion  of  every  joyful  event  in  the  reigning  family, 
such  as  a  birth,  or  a  triumph,  and  even  from  the  will  of 
the  dead  emperor,  the  people  expected  and  received  a 
largesse.  This  differed  both  as  to  the  amount  and  as  to 
the  circle  of  those  who  received  it.  Sixty  or  one  hundred 
denarii  {£2  to  £3,  10s.)  to  each  was  considered  little. 
Hadrian  gave  1000  (£35),  Septimius  Severus  1100 
(£38,  10s.),  Gallienus  1250  (£43,  15s.).  As  a  rule, 
the  Congiarium  was  given  to  the  recipients  of  the  grain 
only,  but  not  infrequently  the  number  of  those  who 
received    it   was   much  greater.       A    tolerably   reliable 


14  CHRISTIAN  CIIAEITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  I. 

calculation  tells  us  that  from  the  accession  of  Nero  to 
the  death  of  Septiniius  Severus  there  was  distributed 
annually  in  this  way,  on  the  average,  about  £300,000.^* 
Moreover,  there  were  at  the  same  time  public  banquets 
and  games.  On  the  occasion  of  Csesar's  triumph,  the 
people  feasted  at  22,000  tables;  Chian  and  Falernian 
ran  in  rivers,  and  tlie  peoj)le  had  for  once  an  opportunity 
of  learning  the  flavour  of  the  much-famed  Muranian 
wine.^^  So  also,  in  connection  with  the  games  in  the 
circus,  which,  under  Marcus  Aurelius,  were  provided  for 
the  people  on  1 3  5  days  in  the  year,  there  were  frequently 
presents  made  to  the  spectators.  Under  the  porticos  of 
the  theatre  was  laid  out  merchandise  of  all  sorts,  which 
at  the  close  of  the  play  was  abandoned  to  be  scrambled 
for  by  the  people.  Or  money  and  victuals  were  thrown 
amongst  the  people,  or  sometimes  lottery  tickets  by 
which  one  might  win  a  prize.  Thus  Nero  scattered 
1000  lottery  tickets,  and  those  who  obtained  them  could 
win,  according  to  the  luck  with  which  they  were  favoured, 
corn,  money,  foreign  birds,  horses,  even  shijJs  and  landed 
properties.^^ 

The  sums  which  were  thus  expended  were  enormous. 
Even  when  we  appraise  the  games  and  the  other  things 
in  connection  with  them  at  a  very  low  rate,  we  are  below 
the  mark  rather  than  above  it  when  we  reckon  the  ex- 
penditure at  about  £1,500,000  annually.  So  much  as 
this  was  swallowed  up  by  the  one  city  of  Eome,  which 
could  not  at  that  time  have  had  more  than  about  one 
and  a  half  million  inhabitants.  And  what  was  accom- 
plished by  this  expenditure  ?  Not  even  the  support  of 
the  200,000  recipients  of  grain.  For  five  bushels  per 
month  were  not  sufficient  for  one  family.  And  beyond 
this  nothing  was  done.     There  were  no  poorhouses,  no 


CHAP.  I.]  A  WORLD  WITHOUT  LOVE.  15 

hospitals.  Lazarettos  in  the  Eoman  Empire  were 
curiously  enough  known  as  places  for  soldiers  and  slaves 
only.  Antoninus  Pius  indeed  tells  us  that  he  had  built 
beside  the  temple  of  the  Epidaurian  ^sculapius  a  build- 
ing for  the  reception  of  the  sick.  But  this  was  not  a 
hospital.  It  was  rather  a  kind  of  hostelry  for  those  who 
had  come  to  pray  to  the  god  on  account  of  their  sick- 
ness.^^  There  was  a  total  want  of  any  care  for  widows 
and  orphans ;  and  for  those  who  were  not  citizens  there 
was,  as  a  rule,  no  help  whatever.  At  the  utmost,  there 
fell  to  them  a  very  little  when  there  happened  to  be  a 
surplus  of  grain.  The  worst  feature,  however,  of  this 
system  was  its  demoralizing  influence.  A  gift  springing 
from  true  charity  elevates  him  who  receives  it,  such  is 
the  power  of  the  love  which  underlies  it.  Those  frag- 
ments of  the  spoils  of  the  conquered  world  which  were 
thrown  to  the  people  in  this  way  could  only  corrupt 
them.  The  Eoman  populace  became  more  and  more  a 
work-hating,  pleasure-seeking  crowd,  which  cheered  every 
new  accessor  to  power  in  the  hopes  of  new  largesse,  and 
which  even  went  out  to  meet  the  matricide  Nero,  when, 
after  that  frightful  crime,  he  entered  Eome  clad  in  white 
garments  and  adorned  with  wreaths.  In  no  other  way 
than  by  contemplating  the  gifts  and  largesse  showered 
upon  the  Eoman  people  in  such  stupendous  abundance, 
can  we  adequately  perceive  how  that  thing  was  wanting 
in  the  old  world  which  alone  could  lend  value  to  these 
gifts  and  make  them  fruitful.     They  had  not  charity. 

The  provincial  towns  endeavoured  to  be  in  all  things 
copies  of  Eome.  In  the  liberality  which  was  exercised' 
at  Eome  they  had  indeed  no  share  ;  on  the  contrary,  they 
were  obliged  to  contribute  in  order  to  make  that  liberality 
possible.     It  was  only  in  the  case  of  extraordinary  mis- 


16  CHRISTIAN  CHAKITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  1. 

fortunes  that  the  emperors  caused  grain  to  be  distributed 
amongst  them  also,  as,  for  instance,  Tiberius  among  the 
Asiatic  towns  overwhehned  by  earthquake,  or  Marcus 
Aurelius  amongst  the  Etrurian  towns  in  the  time  of 
famine.^''  But  as  the  system  of  communal  government 
grew  up,  equal  care  was  taken,  although  on  a  smaller 
scale,  to  provide  abundant  and  cheap  supplies  of  grain 
for  the  provincial  towns  also.  And  in  consequence  of 
the  ever  active  local  patriotism,  there  were  not  wanting 
persons  who  from  their  private  means  gave  grain,  oil,  and 
even  money  for  distribution.  Here,  also,  it  was  the 
custom  of  the  adiles  and  prcetors,  who  stood  at  the  head 
of  the  State  government,  for  the  decemvirs,  who  occupied 
in  the  municipal  towns  the  same  position  as  the  Senate 
at  Eome,  to  give  the  people  banquets  and  games  on  the 
occasion  of  their  election.  The  president  of  the  Augus- 
tales,  to  which  guilds  the  wealthy  freedmen  had  the  right 
of  entry — although  offices  of  State  were  closed  against 
them — were  also  expected  to  show  their  open-handed- 
ness ;  and  when  a  statue  was  decreed  to  some  prominent 
man,  some  wealthy  member  of  the  State  community,  he 
invariably  acknowleged  the  honour  by  providing  a  ban- 
quet for  the  people,  or  even  by  giving  to  each  man  a 
money-present.^^  What  happened  at  Eome  was  repeated 
in  the  provinces,  only  on  a  smaller  scale. 

Some,  however,  while  they  admit  that  all  this  organiza- 
tion was  in  no  true  sense  of  the  term  charitable,  have 
endeavoured  to  find  a  system  of  poor  relief,  or,  at  any 
rate,  something  analogous  to  it,  in  two  other  institutions 
•which  were  an  important  feature  of  the  social  life  of  the 
time,  the  planting  of  colonies  and  the  system  of  clientage. 
The  supposition  is  in  both  cases  without  foundation. 
The  colonies  were  never  a  charitable  institution:  they 


CHAP.  1.]  A  WORLD  WITHOUT  LOVK.  17 

were  planted  from  motives  quite  apart  from  any  con- 
sideration for  tlie  welfare  of  the  poor.  In  the  heyday  of 
the  Republic  they  were  of  use  in  securing  the  possession 
of  conquered  territory,  and  later  on,  after  the  civil  wars, 
they  served  to  keep  in  check  and  to  reward  the  disbanded 
soldiery.  Salla  divided  amongst  his  soldiers  lands  in 
Italy,  the  former  owners  of  which  had  been  ejected  by 
force.  After  the  battle  of  Philippi  tliere  were  170,000 
men  for  whom  some  provision  had  to  be  made.  In  order 
to  accomplish  this,  possession  was  taken,  under  the  form 
of  compulsory  sale  (the  purchase  money,  however,  was 
never  paid),  of  a  number  of  districts,  in  addition  to  the 
properties  of  proscribed  persons.  Once  driven  out  of 
their  possessions,  the  quondam  owners  swelled  the 
numbers  of  the  2^^'(^^ctariat  at  Eome  ;  the  veterans  had 
no  inclination  for  agriculture,  and  very  soon  resold  their 
farms.  The  consequence  was,  accordingly,  that  the  posses- 
sions of  the  great  landed  proprietors,  the  Laiifandi,  were 
increased  ;  and  the  unpropertied  classes  were  increased  at 
the  same  time.  Augustus  entertained  at  one  time  the 
idea  of  transporting  into  foreign  colonies  80,000  poor 
citizens,  but  the  plan  was  never  carried  into  effect.  So 
that  here  also  we  find  that  the  intention  was  not  really 
one  of  providing  for  the  poor,  but  rather  of  removing 
from  Eome  a  restless  and  hence  dangerous  class  of  the 
population. 

Still  less  was  it  the  intention  of  the  great  men  of 
Eome,  when  they  assembled  around  them  crowds  of 
clients,  to  do  anything  in  the  way  of  relieving  necessity ; 
altliough  indeed  many  a  one,  who  would  otherwise  have 
been  destitute,  might  find  in  the  system  a  chance  of 
some  means  of  subsfstence  however  small.  The  clieniela, 
which  was  originally  a   relationship  of  piety  and  duty, 

B 


18  CHRISTIAN  CIIAIIITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.        [book  I. 

had  already  in  the  days  of  the  Empire  sunk  into  a  system 
of  mercenary  service.  The  throng  of  clients  came  in  the 
morning  to  greet  tlie  great  noble,  and  accompany  him 
when  he  went  out ;  in  short,  they  contributed  generally 
to  the  pomp  of  the  family.  In  return  for  this  they 
received  the  sjiortula.  This  consisted  in  earlier  times  of 
a  banquet ;  but  in  later  times  it  took  the  form  of  a 
pecuniary  reward,  amounting  to  about  fifteen  pence  per 
diem.  On  the  occasion  of  great  festivities  they  were  also 
bidden  to  a  banquet ;  but  in  this  case  they  were  gene- 
rally very  poorly  treated.  The  food  they  received  was 
inferior  to  that  served  to  the  other  guests ;  and  while  the 
master  drank  Falernian  wine,  they  had  to  content  them- 
selves with  the  cheaper  brands.  On  the  whole,  they  eked 
out  but  a'  scanty  subsistence.  The  sum  which  they 
received  annually  was  insufficient  for  their  needs,  and 
they  had  to  bestir  themselves  greatly,  in  order  that  by 
special  acts  of  service  they  might  obtain  here  and  there 
a  supplementary  gift.  Moreover,  there  were  in  Home 
many  thousands  of  them.  The  Roman  of  that  day  would 
much  rather  busy  himself  as  a  beggar  and  sycophant  in 
the  hall  of  some  great  man,  than  stick  to  any  ordinary 
and  regular  work. 

The  case  is  somewhat  different  when  we  come  to  the 
so-called  alinuntationes,  or  endowments  for  the  education 
of  poor  children.^^  "We  find  them  from  the  time  of 
Nerva  onwards,  and  Trajan,  in  particular,  took  a  special 
interest  in  them.  Antoninus  Pius  founded  such  an 
institution  for  girls  in  memoiy  of  his  wife  Faustina 
(puellce  Faustiniance),  Septimius  Severus  one  for  boys 
and  girls  in  memory  of  Julia  Mammaea  (p2ieri  puellccque 
Mammceani).  The  capital  devoted  to  this  purpose  was 
invested  in  landed  property  at  a  moderate  rate  of  interest, 


CHAP.  I.]  A  WORLD  WITHOUT  LOVK  19 

and  with  the  income  derived  from  this  source  hoys  and 
girls,  for  the  most  part  free-born  alone,  were  maintained 
and  educated.  One  of  these  foundations,  that  of  Beleja 
in  Upper  Italy,  possessed  a  capital  of  1,044,000  hs. 
(£9156),  which  at  5  per  cent,  interest  yielded  an  income 
of  52,200  HS.  This  sum  provided  for  281  children 
(245  legitimate  boys,  34  legitimate  girls,  and  also  two 
illegitimate  children,  one  boy  and  one  girl).  The  boys 
received  16  HS.  (3s.)  and  tlie  girls  12  hs.  (2s.  2d.)  per 
month.  In  the  case  of  the  former  this  subsidy  continued 
till  the  age  of  eighteen,  in  that  of  the  latter  to  the  age  of 
fourteen.  In  later  days  similar  foundations  were  scattered 
over  the  whole  of  Italy.  They  were  under  their  own 
officers,  and  their  operation  was  confined  to  certain 
districts.  They  must  also  have  been  very  numerous,  for 
we  find  them  even  outside  Italy.  Thus  there  was  in 
Spain  the  foundation  of  the  pucri  Juncini;^^  and  in  the 
African  colony  of  Cirta  Sicca,  in  the  reigns  of  Antoninus 
Pius,  every  one  contributed  a  certain  sum.  With  the 
proceeds  of  these  contributions  300  boys  and  200  girls 
were  educated.  There  was  expended  annually  for  the 
boys  30  denarii  (20s.)  and  for  the  girls  24  den.  (I7s.). 
The  ages  of  the  boys  ranged  from  three  to  fifteen,  and  of 
the  girls  from  three  to  twelve  years.  The  number  was 
always  kept  at  its  highest.  The  children  of  Inquilini 
might  be  elected  as  well  as  the  children  of  citizens.^* 

The  motives  for  making  these  foundations  also  were  to 
a  large  extent  of  a  merely  political  nature.  The  over- 
whelming population  of  Italy  no  doubt  drew  the  attention 
of  the  Emperor  to  the  rising  generation,  and  the  unmis- 
takeable  preference  given  to  the  boys,  as  seen  from  the 
figures  mentioned  above,  seems  to  indicate  that  he  had 
an    eye    to    the    provision   of    recruits    for    his    legions. 


20  CHRISTIAN  CIIAKITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.        [book  I. 

But  that  the  endowments  were  not  due  to  political 
motives  entirely,  but  sprung  in  some  measure  from 
motives  of  humanity  as  well,  is  shown  not  only  by  the 
fact  that  girls  also  had  a  share  in  their  benefits,  but  also 
by  the  Emperors  founding  institutions  of  this  sort  in 
honour  of  their  wives,  and  still  more  by  the  fact  that  a 
great  many  of  them  were  the  deeds  of  private  individuals. 
Pliny ^^  presents  to  the  town  of  Comum  500,000  HS. 
(£4385)  as  an  endowment  for  free-born  boys  and  girls, 
and  increases  the  sum  by  his  will  by  300,000  lis. 
(£2630).  A  wealthy  lady,  Macrina,  bequeathed  one 
million  for  the  same  purpose ;  '*'  and  even  more  signifi- 
cant is  the  already  mentioned  endowment,  of  which  the 
inscription  found  in  Spain  gives  us  information.  A 
certain  Fabia  bequeathed  to  the  imcri  Juncini  and  the 
pucllm  (the  name  is  wanting  in  the  inscription) 
60,000  HS.  (£440).  The  interest  at  6  per  cent., 
3000  HS.  (£26),  was  to  be  distributed  twice  a  year,  on 
her  husband's  birthday  and  on  her  own.  The  boys 
received  each  30  HS.  (5s.  6d.),  the  girls  each  40  hs. 
(7s.).  If  tlie  money  was  not  sufficient  for  this,  the  girls 
were  to  receive  only  30  ns.  each;  if  there  was  any 
surplus,  it  was  to  be  divided  in  the  same  proportions. 
Now  in  this  case,  in  the  fact  that  the  girls  were  more 
liberally  treated  than  the  boys,  we  have  undoubted  evi- 
dence of  the  humane  character  of  the  foundation.  How 
very  different  were  tlie  ideas  of  the  ancient  world  which 
they  put  into  execution  iu  making  foundations  of  this 
kind  !  how  meanly  were  boys  and  girls  alike  treated ! 
Here  also  one  seems  to  perceive  that  a  new  influence 
was  making  its  way.  The  picture  of  Trajan  which  has 
been  preserved  to  us,  of  the  Emperor  in  the  midst  of  the 
children  for  whom  he  provided,  is  an  important  symptom 


CHAP.  I.]  A  WORLD  WITHOUT  LOVE.  21 

of  that  current  flowing  out  from  the  midst  of  heathendom 
towards  the  advancing  flood  of  Christendom. 

We  shall  notice  this  current  still  more  distinctly  if 
we  turn  our  attention  to  the  life  of  the  numerous  societies 
{collegia)  which  played  so  important  a  part  in  the  whole 
social  life  of  the  imperial  age.  In  these  we  find  for  the 
first  time  something  analogous  to  Christian  charity,  or  if 
that  is  perhaps  saying  too  much,  it  is  in  them  that  the 
above  -  mentioned  current  approaches  most  nearly  to 
Christianity,  and  that  altogether  apart  from  the  import- 
ance which  the  collegia  also  possess  in  that  they  laid 
down  the  legal  form  and  order  for  so  much  in  the  life  of 
the  Christian  communities,  and  in  especial  for  Christian 
charity.^'^ 

Even  in  Greece  there  were  societies  of  every  kind,  and 
with  the  most  diverse  objects.  If  a  few  young  people 
wished  to  hold  a  merry  feast,  or  to  celebrate  some 
festivity,  or  if  they  designed  to  accomplish  some  object 
through  bribery  for  which  a  considerable  sum  of  money 
was  requisite,  they  formed  a  "  society "  (cranos),  and 
provided  the  requisite  money  by  contribution.  Trades- 
men also  formed  societies ;  and  they  were  also  instituted 
for  purposes  of  mutual  support.  If  one  of  their  members 
fell  into  difficulties,  the  society  made  him  an  advance, 
which  he,  when  he  had  retrieved  his  position,  repaid.^^ 
In  Eome,  from  an  early  date,  we  find  guilds  of  tradesmen 
and  societies  for  other  purposes,  especially  for  the 
common  worship  of  some  god  or  other.  The  Eepublic 
allowed  them  to  do  as  they  pleased,  and  only  restrained 
them  from  outrageous  excesses.  In  the  eyes  of  the 
Emperors  the  collegia  were  suspicious,  since  they  might 
so  easily  become  the  seats  of  conspiracies.  For  this 
reason  the  majority  of    them  were  suppressed,  and  the 


22  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.        [book  I. 

institution  of  new  ones  made  dependent  upon  the  per- 
mission of  the  Senate.  By  a  decree  of  the  Senate,  how- 
ever, colleges  of  the  humbler  classes  {collegia  tenuiorum  ^®) 
were  permitted.  Their  object  was,  by  a  monthly  sub- 
scription of  their  members  {slips  menstrua),  to  form  a 
treasury  {area),  out  of  which,  on  the  death  of  a  member, 
the  expenses  of  his  burial  might  be  defrayed.  Thus 
they  were  burial  funds.  The  recognition  which  was 
extended  to  them  was  vmited  with  the  condition  that 
they  should  meet  only  once  a  month,  and  should  enter- 
tain no  other  aim  than  that  which  had  been  appointed 
them.  In  spite  of  this  strict  legislation  the  collegia 
increased,  and  tlie  Government  allowed  them  to  remain 
unmolested  so  long  as  they  appeared  harmless.  Alex- 
ander Severus  gave  charters  to  all  collegia  for  art  or 
business,  and  regulated  their  legal  position.  From  that 
time  onwards  they  multiplied  in  the  greatest  abundance, 
especially  when  the  reception  into  the  Roman  citizenship 
by  Caracalla  of  all  the  provincial  citizens  empowered 
these  also  to  form  themselves  into  societies.  Not  only 
merchants  of  different  branches,  artisans  of  every  kind, 
workers  in  wool,  makers  of  purple,  shoemakers,  fishermen, 
shipbuilders,  but  even  compatriots  united  as  such,  the 
provincials  who  lived  in  Eome,  and  the  Eomans  who 
lived  in  the  province.  The  period  was  one  in  which 
there  was  a  great  necessity  for  co-operation;  and  especially 
was  this  felt  among  the  lower  classes,  for  whom  the 
collegia  were  the  principal  means  of  bettering  their  con- 
dition and  of  enabling  them  to  hold  up  their  heads  in  a 
society  so  exclusively  aristocratic.  In  addition  to  this, 
there  was  the  necessity  for  pleasant  social  intercourse. 
All  collegia  were  at  once  pleasant  meeting-places ;  indeed, 
many  of  theifl  appear  to  have  had  no  other  aim  than  that 


CHAP. 


I.]  A  WORLD  WITHOUT  LOVE.  23 


of  promoting  social  intercourse.  The  constitution  of  the 
guilds  was  ordered  after  the  pattern  of  the  constitution 
of  the  municipium.  At  the  head  stood  the  magistri  or 
curators,  who  were  elected  annually.  From  amongst  the 
higher  classes  the  guilds  sought  to  procure  patrons, 
mainly  with  a  view  to  having  the  honour  thus  conferred 
rewarded  by  liberal  gifts,  which  constituted  one  of  the 
chief  sources  of  the  society's  income.  While  the  poorer 
societies  held  their  meetings  in  some  tavern  or  other,  the 
more  wealthy  possessed  their  own  meeting-house  (scJwla), 
with  an  assembly  and  eating-hall,  and  also  with  a  chapel, 
or  at  least  an  altar.  For  all  had  alike  some  religious 
background,  and  worshipped  as  their  protector  some  one 
or  other  of  the  gods,  the  special  worship  of  whom 
constituted  one  of  their  objects. 

There  is  nothing  in  the  guilds  which  reaches  to  the 
height  of  actual  charity,  and  this  is  a  sure  sign  of  how 
far  distant  that  was  from  the  ideas  of  the  heathen  world. 
Tertullian  expressly  lays  weight  on  the  fact  that  in 
Christian  communities  the  collected  contributions,  which 
in  other  respects  he  treats  as  parallel  to  the  subscriptions 
of  the  guilds,  were  spent  not  in  gluttony  and  in  drunken- 
ness, but  in  the  relief  of  the  poor.^**  But  in  many  of  the 
guilds  mutual  support  was  one  of  the  objects  for  the 
promotion  of  which  they  had  been  formed.  In  the  first 
place,  we  must  remember  that,  as  has  been  mentioned 
above,  they  frequently  formed  burial  funds.  Such  a  guild 
was,  for  instance,  that  of  the  worshippers  of  Diana  and 
Antinous  (cidtorcs  Diance  et  Antinoi),  with  the  statute? 
of  which  we  are  familiar  through  an  inscription  of  tlie 
year  136.^^  There  belonged  to  it  people  of  the  poorer 
ranks,  freedmen  and  slaves.  Every  member  paid  on 
entry   100   HS  (12s.    6d.),  and  thereafter  as   a  regular 


24  CHRISTIAN  CIIAIllTY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.        [book  r. 

monthly  subscription  5  asses  (about  20d.).  On  the  death 
of  a  member  there  were  paid  for  the  costs  of  his  burial 
300  IIS.  (54s.),  whereof  50  lis.  (about  9s.)  were  distrib-ited 
amongst  those  members  of  the  guikl  who  were  present 
at  the  interment.  In  the  event  of  the  dead  man  liaving 
no  relatives,  the  arrangements  for  the  funeral  were  looked 
after  by  the  society.  Mention  is  also  made  of  common 
banquets,  at  which  no  doubt  the  slaves  would  also  be 
present,  and  would  thus  in  tliis  circle  of  friends  feel 
themselves  free  for  at  least  a  few  hours  at  a  time.  If  a 
slave  were  manumitted,  he  was  obliged,  in  accordance 
with  the  regulations,  to  provide  an  amphora  of  wine,  with 
which  his  manumission  was  celebrated  by  the  others. 
Mutual  funds  of  other  khids  are  also  to  be  found.  In 
the  Legio  ill.  Aug.  there  was  a  schola  of  36  persons.^^ 
The  candidate  paid  on  admission  750  den.  (,£26),  and 
also  gave  a  current  subscription.  In  return  he  received 
from  the  chest,  in  the  event  of  liis  requiring  to  travel 
over  the  sea,  a  contribution  towards  his  travelling 
expenses  of  200  den.  (£7)  ;  a  horseman,  of  500  den. 
(£15),  and,  if  necessary,  a  contribution  of  500  den. 
towards  the  expenses  of  outfit ;  finally,  on  his  death 
the  costs  of  his  burial  were  defrayed.  Whoever  was 
honourably  discharged  as  a  veteran,  received  on  his 
departure  6000  lis.  (£52). 

Many  of  these  societies  collected  in  tlie  course  of  time 
considerable  wealth,  especially  from  the  presents  or 
endowments  made  by  their  patrons  or  other  leading 
members.  Houses,  pieces  of  land,  capital  sums  were 
either  presented  or  bequeathed  to  tiiem,  in  order  that,  on 
appointed  days,  a  sjportula,  a  distribution  of  bread,  wine, 
or  money,  might  be  made  amongst  their  members. 
Especially    worthy    of   notice    are    the    endowments    in 


CHAP.  I.]  A  WORLD  WITHOUT  LOVE.  25 

memory  of  the  dead,  as  they  clearly  are  the  origin  of 
those  important  kinds  of  memorials  so  corainon  in  the 
Church  a  little  later  on.  It  was  universally  the  cnstora 
to  arrange  for  one's  burial  and  for  one's  memory  after 
death.  Eich  men  built  mausoleums  with  chapels,  altars, 
and  banqueting-halls,  sometimes  also  with  gardens,  or 
even  wide-reaching  parks.  Care  was  also  taken  that 
there  should  always  be  those  who  would  think  of  the 
dead,  and  show  respect  to  his  memory,  especially  by 
bringing  wreaths  on  his  birthday,  kindling  lamps,  offering 
sacrifice,  and  holding  banquets.  With  this  in  view 
capital  sums  were  set  aside  ;  and  in  order  to  make  the 
endowment  more  secure,  and  to  obtain  the  punctual 
performance  of  the  stipulations  in  the  will,  men  gladly 
availed  themselves  of  public  bodies,  and  especially  of  the 
guilds.  Money  and  landed  property  was  bequeathed  to 
them,  and  they  were  held  bound,  in  accordance  with  the 
conditions,  to  celebrate  the  anniversaries  of  the  deceased 
with  sacrifices,  wreaths,  banquets,  and  distributions  of 
money.  In  the  event  of  a  guild  not  doing  its  duty  there 
was  a  fixed  penalty,^  or  it  was  even  stipulated  that  the 
money  should  pass  to  some  other  corporation.^  In  the 
year  149  a  certain  Sextus  Fadius  bequeathed  to  the 
guild  of  the  Fabres  Mtrbonenses  16,000  HS.  (£140),  in 
order  that  the  interest  might  be  distributed  amongst  the 
visitors  and  guests  on  his  birthday,^  Another  bequeaths 
100,000  HS.  (£870),  that  out  of  the  proceeds  there  might 
be  provided  at  his  grave  each  year  a  banquet  for  at  least 
twelve  men.  The  duty  of  seeing  to  this  was  confided  to 
the  guild  of  the  Centenarii.^  The  number  of  guests  is, 
for  the  most  part,  distinctly  mentioned,  and  directions 
given  for  the  filling  up  of  vacancies  caused  by  dcath.^'^ 
Moreover,  minute  directions    are  frequently  laid  down. 


26  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.        [book  I. 

For  instance,  one  man  directs  that  on  his  birthday  his 
statue  is  to  be  anointed,  and  crowned  with  wreaths,  and 
th.it  two  wax  candles  are  to  be  lighted  in  front  of  it. 
Before  the  pedestal  of  the  statue  there  was  to  be,  from 
the  third  hour  onwards,  a  distribution  to  the  decuriones 
of  a  sportula.^^  Again,  a  lady  named  Valeria  bequeaths 
to  the  guild  of  the  Fuhres  Centcnarii  a  certain  sum, 
stipulating  that  out  of  the  proceeds  of  it  there  should  be 
held  every  year  on  her  birthday  a  banquet  to  cost 
200  den.,  and  that  200  den.  should  be  given  away  in 
her  memory.  Her  husband  presents  to  the  Schola 
Vexillariorum  30,000  lis.,  out  of  which  250  den.  were 
to  be  devoted  to  a  banquet,  and  250  den.  given  away 
as  a  sportula  amongst  those  present.^  In  many  cases 
also  the  proportions  in  which  the  distributions  are  to  be 
made  are  fixed,  and  these  are  always  so  arranged  that 
the  officials  of  the  society  receive  more  according  to  their 
rank.  Thus  a  president  of  the  Augustales  bequeaths 
100,000  HS.  (£870).  The  interest  is  to  be  divided  on 
his  birthday  as  a  sportula ;  the  presidents  are  to  receive 
4  den.  (3s.),  the  others  3  den.  (2s.  3d.),  but  always  only 
those  who  are  present.  If  a  smaller  number  should  come 
forward,  then  those  who  had  appeared  were  to  receive 
a  proportionately  larger  sum.^"  Salvia  Marcellina  be- 
queathed in  memory  of  her  husband,  who  had  been 
overseer  of  the  imperial  tablets,  the  sura  of  50,000  lis. 
(£438)  to  the  college  of  .^Esculapius  and  Hygeia.  Out 
of  the  interest  a  sportula  was  to  be  distributed  twice 
a  year ;  the  higher  officials  of  the  guild  were  to  receive 
G  denarii  each  and  8  jars  of  wine,  the  lower  officials 
4  denarii  and  6  jars  of  wine,  and  the  ordinary  members 
2  denarii  and  3  jars  of  wine.  This  was  in  addition  to 
three  loaves  to  each.^^     In  this  case  again  the  proportion 


CHAP.  I.]  A  WOELD  WITHOUT  LOVE.  27 

of  the  shares  shows  that  we  are  in  no  sense  dealing  with 
charity.  Necessity  is  not  regarded :  those  who  are  to  all 
appearances  the  least  necessitous  are  to  receive  the  most. 
The  object,  moreover,  of  the  giver  is  not  to  aid  the  poor, 
but  to  honour  the  memory  of  herself  and  her  relatives, 
or  at  least  to  procure  a  gratification  for  the  members  of 
the  guild.  Still,  no  doubt,  the  sportula  and  the  banquet, 
and  the  distributed  bread  aud  wine,  might  be  of  service 
to  many  a  one  in  distress,  and  thus  although  we  have 
no  actual  charity  before  us,  still  we  have  something 
analogous  to  it,  something  which  bears  the  same  relation 
to  Christian  charity  as  does  the  ancient  lihcralitas  to  the 
Christian  caritas ;  and  in  any  case,  the  constitution  of 
these  guilds,  and  the  kind  of  life  developed  within- them, 
have  been  of  the  greatest  importance  in  the  history  of 
Christian  charity  and  its  development. 

Certainly  it  was  the  case  that  these  guilds  laid  down 
the  recognised  forms  in  accordance  with  wliicli,  wlien 
once  the  power  of  true  love  began  to  stir  the  Christian 
communities,  their  charity  was  to  be  exercised.  Just  as 
in  the  guilds  there  was  a  monthly  subscription  collected, 
so  also  were  there  subscriptions  in  the  Christian  com- 
munities :  the  latter  also  liad  an  area,  and  it  is 
remarkable  that  Tertullian,  in  speaking  of  collections  for 
the  benefit  of  the  poor,  makes  use  of  expressions  which 
had  acquired  a  technical  significance  in  the  guilds.  Just 
in  the  same  way  as  the  heathen  made  endowments  in 
memory  of  the  dead  {ad  memoriam),  so  do  we  find 
hereafter  within  the  Church  innumerable  memorial- 
foundations  ;  the  only  difference  is  this,  that  the  object 
of  the  latter  is  the  relief  of  the  poor.  In  the  former 
case,  and  this  is  important,  the  guilds  cherished  the  spirit 
of  CO  operation  amongst  the  lower  classes,  and  the  idea  of 


28  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.        [book  I. 

brotherliness.  Wliat  ties  of  family  and  alliances  of  race 
were  to  the  higher  classes,  the  guilds  were  to  the  lower. 
Nor  must  we  omit  to  notice  that  the  members  of  the 
guilds  called  one  another  brothers  and  sisters;^'  that  their 
presidents  aiid  presidentesses  were  known  as  fathers  and 
mothers ;  and  that  even  in  the  case  of  the  dead  in  the 
inscriptions  on  the  tombs,  whilst  in  earlier  times  it  had 
been  written  that  tliey  were  affectionate  towards  their 
friends,  it  was  now  recorded  that  they  had  proved 
themselves  affectionate  towards  their  guilds.^^  All  this 
is,  as  it  were,  a  shadow  of  love  and  charity  ;  and  here 
again  we  may  recognise  traces  of  that  current  which 
flowed  out  from  the  midst  of  heatlienism  to  meet  the 
advancing  tide  of  Christianity.  What  an  elevating 
thougiit  it  must  have  been  to  the  artisan,  excluded  from 
all  olhces  in  the  State  or  the  nmnicipality,  from  all 
priestly  guilds  and  posts  of  honour,  that  in  his  own 
guild  at  least  lie  was  of  some  importance,  and  might 
there  attain  to  office  and  honour !  And  what  a  boon  it 
must  have  been  to  the  slave  that  there  at  least  he  was 
treated  as  a  man !  We  nmst  try  to  picture  to  ourselves 
the  extremely  oppressed  condition  of  the  lower  classes  in 
this  aristocratic  world,  if  we  would  rightly  appreciate 
what  the  guilds  were  in  their  eyes,  and  understand  how 
it  was  that  they  cherished  them  so  zealously. 

But  we  have  not  yet  touched  upon  the  point  of  chief 
importance.  This  lies  first  of  all  in  the  fact  that  it  is  in 
the  giiilds  that  we  find  in  heathenism  for  the  first  time 
anything  approaching  to  the  life  of  a  Christian  com- 
munity. Indeed,  this  matter  deserves  careful  considera- 
tion. One  of  the  main  causes  why,  in  the  ancient  world, 
they  never  arrived  at  true  charity,  at  true  care  for 
the  poor,  is  that  the  spirit  of  community,  which  was  its 


CHAP.  I.]  A  WORLD  WITHOUT  LOVE.  29 

tnie  prop,  was  wanting.  In  the  course  of  this  sketch  we 
shall  have  frequent  opportunities  of  observing  in  how 
very  close  dependence  upon  the  rise  and  fall  of  the 
communal  life  has  been  the  rise  and  fall  of  charity.  To 
the  ancient  world  the  idea  of  the  community  was  quite  a 
strange  one.  JRobbertus,  in  a  passage  in  his  treatise  on 
the  lloman  taxes,^*  remarks  that  we  can  speak  first  of  a 
community  only  after  Christianity  had  formed  such,  and 
tnat  It  is  exactly  in  this  that  one  of  the  strongest 
influences  of  Christianity  upon  the  general  social 
development  of  mankind  lies.  In  the  ancient  world 
there  was  no  political  community.  Above  the  family 
there  rises  immediately  the  State,  and  even  the  Eoman 
Empire  is  but  a  union  of  States.  And  just  as  little  do 
we  find  in  the  ancient  world  religious  communities  or 
communities  for  worship.  We  are  only  too  apt,  when 
considering  the  appearance  of  Christianity,  involuntarily 
to  think  that  there  was  in  the  Christian  worship  some- 
thing similiar  to  the  heathen,  as  if  tliere  had  been  in  the 
latter  case  any  community  for  worship  at  all.  But  this 
is  altogether  a  mistake.  The  heathen  temple  is  not  the 
place  of  meeting  of  any  community  for  worship  like  the 
Christian  Church :  it  is  the  house  of  the  god,  which  was 
never  entered  by  the  people,  but  only  by  the  priests. 
The  altar  stands  in  front  of  the  temple,  and  the  assembled 
people  take  no  share  whatever  in  the  worship  of  the  god. 
They  look  on  at  the  sacrifice  in  silence.  "Favete  Unguis  " 
was  cried  out  at  the  beginning  of  the  sacrifice,  and  a 
flute-player  used  to  play  during  the  sacred  ceremony  in 
order  to  drown  any  inopportune  word  which  might,  in 
accordance  with  the  belief  of  the  Eomans,  be  so  easily 
converted  into  an  evil  omen.  As  a  rule,  the  presence  of 
the  people  at  these  acts  of  ceremonial  worship  was  quito 


30  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.        [boOK  I. 

a  matter  of  indifference.  The  State  made  the  prescribed 
sacrifices  by  means  of  the  priests  in  the  presence  of  the 
officials,  who,  in  conformity  with  the  law,  were  obliged 
to  stand  by  during  the  ceremony.  If  the  people  were 
present,  it  was  only  as  spectators,  just  as  they  were  at 
the  games.  The  utmost  that  was  permitted  to  them  was, 
as  for  instance  at  sacrifices  for  the  Emperor,  to  make 
private  offerings  afterwards,  or  to  throw  incense  about. 

It  is  abundantly  evident  from  this  that  the  worship 
afforded  no  opportunity  for  or  inducement  to  charity. 
The  giving  of  alms  is  no  part  of  it.  Certainly  it  was  in 
several  temples  the  custom  to  make  a  present  (slips)  to 
the  god  ;  but  this  went  to  the  temple,  or  was  in  some  cases 
thrown  into  sacred  fountains  or  lakes.  The  sin-offerings, 
piacicla,  required  by  the  indwelling  superstition  of  the 
Eomans  were  innumerable ;  as,  for  instance,  at  any  place 
which  had  been  struck  by  lightning,  where  unlucky  birds 
had  been  seen  passing,  or  where  some  bad  omen  or  other 
had  come  true.  Men  made  vows  to  ward  off  evil,  or  to 
secure  the  good-will  of  the  gods ;  but  the  vows  had 
reference  to  presents,  grand  sacrifices,  games,  etc.,  never 
to  alms.'^*  Connected  with  the  worship  there  were 
banquets,  either  recurring  regularly  or  held  upon  special 
occasions,  and  especially  for  warding  off  some  evil 
fortune  or  other,  in  which  case  the  costs  were  defrayed 
by  subscriptions ;  but  these  were  gluttonous  banquets  of 
priestly  colleges,  such  as  the  Salii  or  the  Ar vales,  which 
were  notorious  for  their  accompanying  luxury,  or  they 
were  the  banquets  of  citizens ;  poor  people  were  never 
fed  at  them.  I  only  find  one  quite  isolated  instance 
of  distributing  alms  in  the  worship  of  Ceres,  who, 
moreover,  is  not  one  of  the  old  liouian  deities,  but  was 
introduced  first  of  all  in  the  year  258,  in  accordance  with 


CHAP.  I.]  A  WORLD  WITHOUT  LOVE.  31 

the  requisition  of  the  Sibylline  books.  The  temple  of 
Ceres  was  under  the  protection  of  the  ^diles,  and  the 
fines  which  were  recovered  by  them  were  given  to  the 
temple.  Here  they  were  partly  expended  in  offerings 
and  upon  statues,  but  partly  also  in  distributing  bread 
to  the  poor.'*" 

The  ease  of  the  worship  of  the  gentes  and  the  collegia, 
and  of  the  worship  of  foreign  gods,  differs  from  that  of 
the  public  or  State  worship.  The  members  of  the  gens 
or  of  the  collegium  were  bound  to  be  present  at  the 
recognised  sacrifices  of  the  gens  or  collegium  on  appointed 
days  and  at  appointed  places,  and  the  schola  of  the  guild 
is  much  more  analogous  to  the  Christian  Cliurch  than  the 
temple  of  the  god.  And  especially  did  the  societies  of 
foreigners,  who  united  for  the  worship  of  some  of  their 
native  gods  in  Eome  or  one  of  the  provincial  towns,  bear 
a  certain  resemblance  to  the  Christian  community  formed 
for  tlie  worship  of  God  in  Christ.  To  take  only  one 
example,  there  was  in  Puteoli  a  society  of  Syrian  merchants 
who  had  united  for  the  purpose  of  worshipping  the  Jupiter 
of  Heliopolis.  While  the  official  temples  of  the  State 
divinities  were  richly  endowed,  societies  of  this  kind 
must  necessarily  have  of  themselves  borne  the  cost  of 
their  worship,  which  must  therefore  have  been  defrayed 
by  means  of  subscriptions  amongst  their  members.  Here, 
then,  we  have  already  a  kind  of  community  which 
collected  subscriptions  for  purposes  of  worship,  a  thing 
which  was  only  done  in  the  official  worship  of  Rome  in 
the  case  of  the  worship  of  Apollo,  and  on  a  few  isolated 
occasions  where  we  have  to  do  with  exceptional  cere- 
monies by  way  of  expiation  for  sin,  such  as,  for  instance, 
the  Lectistemium.^ 

Of  a  slips  being  collected  for  generous  purposes  I  can 


32  CHKISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.         [book  I. 

find  no  instance,  but  many  for  the  purpose  of  conferring 
honours.  Thus  the  people  contributed  a  sextans  each  to 
defray  the  expenses  of  the  funeral  of  Menenius  Agrippa, 
and  on  the  death  of  Valerius  Poplicola  every  one  threw 
a  quadrans  into  the  house  of  the  consul,  in  order  that  his 
obsequies  might  be  celebrated  with  greater  pomp  by 
means  of  the  money  thus  collected.^*^  Very  frequently 
statues  of  distinguished  men  were  erected  by  voluntary 
subscription.  But  the  man  so  honoured  did  not  come  best 
off,  as  he  generally  displayed  his  liberality  by  defraying 
the  cost  of  it  himself*^  But  that  a  sti2')s  should  be 
collected  to  feed  the  hungry  or  to  clothe  the  naked  was 
a  thing  to  which  their  religion  did  not  point,  an  idea 
which  did  not  enter  into  the  popular  mind.  It  was  only 
when  first  the  religion  of  love  appeared  in  Christianity, 
when  first  the  crowds  of  men  who  had  believed  on  Christ 
formed  themselves  into  real  communities,  of  which  the 
societies  of  foreigners  in  the  Eoman  States  had  been  but 
a  shadow,  that  in  their  Christian  communities  a  slips  was 
collected,  just  as  it  had  been  collected  in  the  societies, 
but  not  now  to  be  thrown  into  sacred  wells,  no  longer  to 
be  expended  on  the  erection  of  statues  or  on  social  eating 
and  drinking,  but  in  extending  aid  to  the  poor  and 
needy. 

Nor  did  philosophy  lead  any  further  towards  charity 
than  did  religion.  Lactantius  was  right  when  he  said  to 
the  heathen :  "  Of  such  things  your  philosophy  teaches 
nothing."  The  ethics  of  the  Greeks  and  Itomans  did  not 
advance  beyond  a  more  or  less  refined  eudaimonism. 
The  chief  principle  of  action  is  always  one's  own  benefit. 
Even  with  Plato  it  is  not  otherwise,  a  fact  which  makes 
us  wonder  how  it  is  that  in  the  case  of  this  best  repre- 
sentative   of    the    ancient    world    a    naked    ei^oism    so 


CHAP.  I.]  A  WOULD  WITHOUT  LOVE.  33 

frequently  comes  to  the  front.  According  to  him  the 
highest  idea  is  that  of  the  good,-  which,  transcending 
mere  existence  in  strength  and  value,  requires  nothing  for 
itself,  and  the  influence  of  which  upon  everything  else  is 
beneficent.^**  It  is  the  cause  of  all  that  is  sacred,  all 
that  is  just  and  beautiful.^^  Hence  the  IJeity,  the  prime 
source  of  all  existence  upon  the  earth,  is  good,  and  will 
reject  nothing  that  is  good  and  well-doing.  And  to 
become  as  like  as  possible  to  this  God,  must  be  the 
endeavour  of  mankind.^^  Hereupon  follows  the  idea  of 
the  State,  that  in  the  laws  enacted  by  the  State  there 
shall  be  nothing  which  benefits  one  class  of  citizens  only, 
but  only  that  which  benefits  the  whole  State ;  and  hence 
it  should  strive  to  bring  the  citizens  into  such  union  with 
one  another,  that  they  shall  help  one  another,  each  man 
in  such  measure  as  will  be  to  the  greatest  advantage  of 
the  community.^^  To  this  there  are  added  thoughts 
which,  if  carried  further  into  practice,  must  have  led  one 
on  to  charity  as  a  sharing  of  the  common  life.  But  it  is 
well  known  how  unsatisfactory,  confusing,  and  impossible 
any  extended  practical  application  of  Plato's  ideas  as  to 
the  life  of  a  community  is.  In  his  ideal  State  there 
is  no  room  for  the  poor.  Beggars  are  simply  turned  out. 
They  mar  the  common  prosperity.  Is  a  worker  ill  ? 
There  is  no  obligation  binding  upon  the  physician  to 
interest  himself  in  him.  If  his  constitution  is  not  strong 
enough  to  enable  him  to  withstand  what  is  hurtful,  he 
must  die :  the  life  of  such  a  man  has  no  value  beyond 
his  being  able  to  carry  on  his  handiwork.  If  he  is  no 
longer  in  a  position  to  do  this,  his  life  is  then  no  longer 
worth  anything.^ 

We   seek    in   vain    for   charity   amongst    the   virtues 
enumerated  by  Aristotle  in  his  Ethics.     We  only  find  a 

C 


34  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.        [boOK  I. 

sort  of  echo  of  the  nama  in  Generosity,  which,  according 
to  Aristotle,  is  the  true  mean  between  extravagance  and 
avarice.  But  the  practice  of  this  is  restricted  ;  tliat  is 
to  say,  the  generous  man  may  give  of  liis  wealth  when 
and  where  and  as  much  as  he  pleases,^''  so  long  as  these 
empty  rubrics  are  fulfilled.  Moreover,  the  motive  of 
generosity,  with  Aristotle,  is  not  benevolence  and  love : 
the  generous  man  gives  "  because  it  is  beautiful  to  give,"  ^^ 
and  thus,  here  again,  only  for  his  own  sake,  only  in  order 
to  adorn  himself  with  this  virtue.  However,  Aristotle 
declares,  and  here  he  comes  nearest  to  the  Christian  idea, 
that  the  worth  of  the  generosity  is  not  to  be  measured  by 
the  amount  of  the  gift,  but  by  the  spirit  of  the  giver. 
The  object,  moreover,  of  this  generosity  is  not  to  combat 
distress  ;  its  practical  proof  lies  always  in  the  giving  of 
gifts.  Aristotle  advances  a  little  further  when  he  treats 
of  friendship.  Here,  also,  he  discusses  benevolence  and 
beneficence.  It  is  a  seemly  thing  to  hasten,  without 
being  asked,  to  the  assistance  of  unfortunate  friends ;  for 
it  is  a  proof  of  friendship  to  help  the  needy  without 
being  entreated  thereto.^^  In  general,  with  Aristotle, 
the  only  incitement  towards  friendship  lies  in  the  virtue 
of  the  friend  and  in  the  feeling  of  satisfaction  which  is 
experienced  in  this  virtue ;  but  it  widens  into  something 
very  unlike  a  universal  love  of  mankind.  According  to 
the  teaching  of  Aristotle,  friendship  cannot  subsist  between 
such  as  have  nothing  in  common  with  one  another,  for 
example,  between  masters  and  slaves.  For,  inasmuch  as 
tlie  latter  is  a  slave,  he  is  only  an  animated  machine. 
But  yet  friendship  with  him  is  possible,  inasmuch  as  he 
is  a  man.^^  In  connection  with  this,  we  may  take  a 
saying  of  Aristotle's,  which  has  been  preserved  by  Diogenes 
Laertius.^^     When  blamed  because  he  had  given  an  ahns 


CHAP.  I.]  A  WORLD  WITHOUT  LOVE.  35 

to  a  bad  man,  he  is  said  to  have  replied  :  "  I  pitied  not 
his  habits,  but  the  man  himself; "  or,  according  to  another 
version  :  "  I  did  not  give  to  the  man  himself,  but  to  man- 
kind." Here,  indeed,  we  have  arrived  at  last  at  the  selfish 
foundation.  For  all  this  generosity  and  benevolence 
springs  not  from  love,  but  from  the  reflection  that  such 
conduct  is  decorous  and  worthy  of  a  noble  man.  The 
generous  man  does  much  for  his  friends  and  fatherland ; 
he  gives  treasures,  wealth,  possessions  to  attain  to  the 
beautiful.  For,  "  of  everything  praiseworthy,  the  generous 
man  takes  as  his  own  share  the  best."^  The  best  for 
himself, — how  far  removed  is  that  from  the  simple  apos- 
tolic saying :  "  Charity  seeketh  not  her  own  "  ! 

The  last  quoted  version  of  Aristotle's  saying  has  a 
strong  affinity  to  Stoicism,  The  Stoics  were  the  first 
who  broke  through  the  rigid  ideas  of  nationality  of  the 
ancient  world ;  they  speak  of  one  humanity,  in  which 
every  one,  even  the  slave,  has  a  share.  Here,  again, 
though  it  is  not  love  which  binds  together  this  com- 
munity of  mankind,  but  nature  and  our  common  origin 
from  nature,  yet  there  is  an  evident  advance  amongst  the 
Stoics,  who  have  much  to  say  upon  beneficence  in  parti- 
cular. Thus  Seneca  has  written  seven  books  upon  "  Good 
Deeds,"  in  which  he  discusses  from  every  side  the  duty 
of  beneficence.  He  requires  not  only  that  we  should 
display  kindness  towards  our  fellow-men  generally,  but 
also  that  we  shall  give  willingly  and  without  hesitation ; 
that  the  gifts  which  we  bestow  upon  the  poor  and  needy 
be  given  quietly,  and  sometimes  even  so  that  the  giver 
shall  not  be  known.*^  He  expressly  declares  that  we 
must  not  give  in  the  hope  of  receiving  again ;  that  is 
usury,  not  beneficence.  As  true  virtue  must  be  exercised 
for  its  own  sake  alone,  so  also  must  tine  beneficence  be 


36  CIIUISTIAN  CILVUITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [rOOK  i. 

exercised  for  its  own  sake  alone."'  For  in  Seneca  the 
thought  appears,  that  by  so  doing  we  imitate  and  secure 
the  favour  of  the  gods,  who  will  reward  us.*'^  This, 
viewed  in  itself,  seems  very  like  the  precepts  of  the  New 
Testament,  and  is  yet  at  bottom  something  very  different. 
It  is  remarkable  how  clearly  Seneca  speaks  upon  the 
point  of  one's  duty  in  choosing  very  carefully  those  for 
whom  we  are  to  exercise  beneficence.  "  I  would  choose 
out,"  says  he,  "  a  blameless,  simple  man,  one  who  would 
be  grateful  and  mindful  of  the  benefit."  *"*  For,  "it  belongs 
to  beneficence  to  give  willingly  to  any  one  whom  I  esteem 
worthy,  and  to  reap  joy  as  the  reward  of  my  good  deed."^ 
And  it  is  remarkable  that  Seneca,  while  he  says  so  much 
of  beneficence,  deals  at  still  greater  length  with  gratitude 
and  the  duty  of  being  grateful.  He  can  hardly  find 
words  strong  enough  to  characterize  the  turpitude  of 
ingratitude.  He  even  goes  so  far  as  to  discuss  the  ques- 
tion whether  the  benefactor  should  not  have  the  right  of 
laying  a  criminal  complaint  against  the  ungrateful  man. 
Seneca  himself  does  not  indeed  incline  to  this,  but  he 
deduces  from  it  a  lesson,  that  since  there  is  no  complaint 
possible  against  the  ungrateful,  for  there  is  no  judge  who 
can  aid  us,  we  ought  on  that  very  account  to  be  more 
careful  in  our  choice  of  those  to  whom  we  are  to  do  good. 
He  who  gives  to  an  ungrateful  man  acts  like  him  who 
puts  his  trust  in  traitors,  or  appoints  a  scoundrel  to  the 
guardianship  of  his  children.^  This  does  not  exclude  us 
from  giving  an  alms  to  a  chance  beggar,  or  providing  an 
unworthy  man  with  fire  and  water.  For  these  are  not 
benefits ;  we  do  such  things  instinctively,  without  con- 
sidering the  individual.'^  Indeed,  Seneca  goes  even 
further  in  such  sentences  as  these :  "  Kindness  persisted 
in  subdues  at  last  even  the  wicked ; "  "  The  ungrateful 


CHAP.  I.]  A  WORLD  WirilOUT  LOVK  37 

man  only  injures  himself  in  the  long  run  ; "  "I  will  not 
therefore  weary,  but  will  go  on  the  more  diligently,  as  a 
good  husbandman  conquers  the  barrenness  of  his  land  by 
a  double  sowing  of  seed."  And  he  closes  with  tliis 
splendid  saying :  "  It  is  not  the  sign  of  a  noble  spirit  to 
give  and  to  lose,  but  it  is  the  sign  of  a  noble  spirit  to  lose 
and  still  to  give."  '^  Thus  all  that  he  says  of  beneficence 
corae-s  at  last  to  this,  though  perhaps  in  a  more  delicate 
sense,  that  what  man  gives  he  gives  in  order  that  he  may 
receive  in  return,  if  not  a  reward,  yet  gratitude ;  if  not 
gratitude,  still  the  consciousness  of  having  a  noble  spirit. 
"  If  you  ask  me  what  I  receive  in  return  for  my  benefac- 
tions, I  reply,  a  good  conscience."  ^^ 

Although  it  is  thus  plain  that  the  good  deeds,  praised 
by  Seneca  with  so  much  rhetorical  emphasis,  are  yet 
something  quite  different  from  the  simple  heartfelt  com- 
passion of  the  Christians,  the  difTerence  becomes  still 
more  distinct  when  we  see  that  he  has  no  hesitation  in 
considering  pity  as  something  morbid  and  unworthy  of  a 
wise  man.  Just  as  superstition  {superstitio)  is  a  morbid 
perversion  of  the  Eoman  religion,  so  is  pity  a  morbid 
caricature  of  mercy  and  kindness.  Pity  is  the  fault  of  a 
weak  spirit,  which  succumbs  at  the  sight  of  a  stranger  in 
distress.  Old  women  are  pitiful,  but  the  wise  man  is 
not.  He  helps  the  weeping  one,  but  does  not  weep  with 
him  ;  he  gives  the  poor  man  a  gift,  and  extends  a  helping 
hand  to  the  shipwrecked  and  dying,  but  does  all  this 
with  a  quiet  unmoved  spirit,  not  from  compassion,  but 
from  sound  judgment,  while  he  gives  to  man  as  man  of 
our  common  possessions,  while  he  says  to  himself  that 
nature  is  common  to  us  all.^" 

And  now  we  begin  to  see  how  it  was  that  the  Eoman 
philosophy,  quite  apart  from  the  fact  that  it  was  never 


38  CHRISTIAN  CIIAKITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.        [BOOK  I. 

the  property  of  more  than  the  few,  could  produce  no 
benevolence  like  the  Christian,  and  how  it  was  that  the 
ancient  world,  in  spite  of  all  its  talk  of  humanity  and 
brotherhood,  of  kindness  and  beneficence,  was  what  it 
was — a  world  without  love.  The  Stoics,  indeed,  made  a 
notable  advance.  The  idea  of  humanity  was  wanting  to 
the  old  world  ;  the  man  was  liidden  beliind  the  citizen, 
mankind  behind  the  State.  The  new  idea  was  indeed 
promulgated  by  the  Stoics,  but  in  an  unsatisfactory 
fashion.  The  undying  value  of  the  human  soul,  tlie  eternal 
significance  of  every  one  of  these  human  individualities, 
remained  hidden  ;  for  their  humanity  was  nothing  but 
nature,  and  the  dependence  upon  each  other  under  nature 
all  that  unites  men.  Their  view  of  the  world  is,  like  that 
of  all  the  rest  of  the  ancient  world,  exclusively  one-sided. 
The  other  side,  eternity  and  the  significance  of  humanity 
as  regards  eternity,  is  hidden  from  them.  There  is  an 
idea,  which  has  been  again  met  with  in  our  own  day, 
that  men,  when  they  first  clearly  came  to  believe  that 
human  life  finds  its  end  in  this  life  alone,  would  be  on 
that  account  the  more  ready  to  help  one  another,  so  that 
at  least  life  here  below  might  be  made  as  pleasant  to  all 
as  possible,  and  kept  free  from  evil.  But,  in  truth,  the 
opposite  is  the  case.  If  the  individual  man  be  only  a 
passing  shadow,  without  any  everlasting  significance,  then 
reflection  quickly  makes  us  decide :  Since  it  is  of  no 
importance  whether  he  exist  or  not,  why  should  I  deprive 
myself  of  anything  in  order  to  give  it  to  him  ?  For 
the  rule  of  life  soon  becomes  this,  that  every  one  makes 
himself  as  comfortable  in  this  life  as  possible ;  and  this 
implies  that  he  need  not  trouble  himself  about  the  poor 
and  needy,  whose  existence  or  non-existence  is  at  bottom 
a  matter  of  no  importance.     All  charity  is  based  upon 


CHAP.  I.]  A  WORLD  WITHOUT  LOVE.  39 

this,  that  the  man  towards  whom  love  is  shown  is  some- 
thing in  himself,  and  not  a  mere  passing  shadow  of  some- 
thing eternal,  not  a  mere  specimen  of  a  genus,  but  a 
personal  existence,  which  as  such  possesses  something 
possessed  by  no  other  person  or  thing.  It  was  only  when 
through  Christianity  it  was  for  the  first  time  made  known 
that  every  human  soul  possessed  an  infinite  value,  that 
each  individual  existence  is  of  much  more  worth  than  the 
whole  world, — it  was  only  then  that  room  was  found  for 
the  growth  of  a  genuine  charity. 

Since  the  ancient  world  possessed  not  this  knowledge, 
the  fundamental  principle  of  the  ancient  lite,  as  well 
amongst  the  Stoics  as  with  Seneca,  is  nothing  else  than 
a  selfishness  or  egoism,  cramped  and  confined  by  the 
egoism  of  the  State.  The  State  mercilessly  makes  the 
other  nations  bow  before  her  interests.  There  are  no 
duties  towards  conquered  enemies.  They  and  their  pro- 
perty are  at  the  mercy  of  the  conqueror.  Mercilessly, 
again,  does  the  individual  make  others  yield  to  his  inte- 
rests. Of  the  duty  of  love,  of  compassion,  of  such  a  love 
as  denies  itself,  of  such  a  compassion  as  is  self-sacrificing 
for  the  sake  of  others,  we  hear  nothing.  Even  in  the 
making  of  gifts  and  presents,  it  is  not  the  individual,  but 
the  State,  the  town,  the  citizenship  that  is  regarded. 
There  is  plenty  of  liberality,  but  no  compassion ;  plenty 
of  good  deeds,  but  none  of  the  works  of  charity.  While 
one  furthers  the  interests  of  the  State,  one  furthers  one's 
own  interests,  for  one  depends  upon  the  State ;  with- 
out it,  one  is  nowhere.  Here  again  we  find  selfishness 
at  the  bottom  of  all.  Each  individual  is  valuable  only 
in  so  far  as  he  aids  in  realizing  the  idea  of  the  State. 
Therefore  the  poor  are  of  no  account,  for  they  signify 
nothing  to  the  State ;  they  are  but  a  burden  upon  its 


40  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [bOOK  I. 

shoulders.  If  you  cannot  live,  you  must  perish ;  as 
Plautus  says :  "  What  is  given  to  the  i^oor  is  lost." 
Hence  the  small  interest  taken  in  children.  Tlie  chil- 
dren of  citizens  who  had  fallen  in  the  service  of  the 
State  were  indeed  educated  at  the  cost  of  the  State,  and 
guardians  were  appointed  to  the  children  of  the  noble 
and  wealthy,  for  it  was  for  the  interest  of  the  State  that 
this  should  he  done.  Where  it  was  not  done,  nobody 
troubled  himself  about  the  children.  Hence  came  it 
that  in  ancient  times  there  were  hospitals  for  soldiers 
and  slaves  only.  The  State  had  an  interest  in  the 
former,  the  great  landowners  in  the  latter.  Every  pos- 
sible care  was  taken  of  the  wealthy  in  their  palaces ; 
about  the  middle  classes  and  the  artisans  no  one  cared. 
Hence  comes  the  small  estimation  in  which  woman  was 
held,  her  dependent  position,  her  want  of  all  legal  rights, 
which  also  was  a  co-ordinate  cause  why  true  charity 
never  was  attained  to,  for  that  only  becomes  a  possibility 
by  the  service  of  that  sex  specially  created  and  provided 
for  the  ministry  of  the  distressed. 

This  ancient  selfishness  comes  more  prominently  for- 
ward among  the  Eomans  than  among  the  Greeks.  The 
only  piece  of  real  care  for  the  poor  which  we  meet  with 
is  at  Athens,  not  at  Kome.  The  Eoman  is  very  avari- 
cious, very  careful  about  the  keeping  together  of  his 
money,  very  unscrupulous  as  to  the  ways  in  which 
he  obtains  it.  The  well-known  saying  with  which  the 
Emperor  Vespasian  justified  his  disgraceful  taxes  is 
typical  of  the  Komans.  The  great  men  of  liome  were  not 
ashamed  to  gain  money  even  from  usury  and  brothels. 
The  Eomans  were  less  influenced  by  generosity  of  any 
kind  than  the  Greeks. 

But  from  the  time  of  the  Emperors  onwards,  as  has 


CHAP.  I.]  A  WORLD  WITHOUT  LOVE.  41 

been  frequently  remarked,  a  new  influence  begins  to  make 
itself  felt.  We  cannot  understand  the  first  centuries  of 
the  Christian  Church,  we  cannot  understand  its  swift 
extension  and  its  proportionately  swift  victory,  if  we  do 
not  notice  this  influence.  And  herein  the  divine  wisdom 
is  revealed ;  it  answers  to  the  "  fulness  of  the  times  "  of 
which  St.  Paul  speaks  (Gal.  iv.  4).  Had  the  stream  of 
<new  life  flowing  forth  from  Christ  encountered  the  still 
unbroken  ancient  life,  it  would  have  recoiled  from  the 
encounter  ineffectually.  But  now  the  ancient  life  had 
already  come  amongst  the  breakers,  its  strong  foundations 
had  begun  to  be  weakened,  and  the  Christian  influence 
meets  with  a  current  of  heathen  opinion  already  flowing 
partly  in  its  own  direction.  In  the  Eoman  Empire  there 
had  appeared  a  spirit  of  universalism  unknown  to  the 
ancient  world.  Nationalities  had  been  effaced,  and  the 
idea  of  universal  manhood  had  struggled  into  the  light 
out  of  the  obscurity  of  tlie  ideas  of  nationality.  From 
the  Stoics  the  word  had  gone  forth  that  all  men  are  equal ; 
they  spoke  of  brotherhood  and  of  the  duties  of  man 
towards  man.  The  lower  classes,  up  to  this  time  despised, 
asserted  their  place.  The  treatment  of  slaves  becomes 
more  gentle.  If  Cato  likened  them  to  cattle  amongst 
straw,  Pliny  beholds  in  them  his  "  serving  friends."  The 
position  of  the  artisan  is  improved ;  freedmen  work  their 
way  upwards.  The  guilds  provide  them  with  not  only  a 
centre  of  social  life,  but  also  with  the  means  of  better- 
ing their  social  position.  The  women,  hitherto  without 
legal  position,  receive  privileges  and  rights  in  increasing 
fulness.  Care  is  taken  of  children.  The  distribution  of 
grain,  which  was  at  first  a  purely  political  institution, 
becomes  by  degrees  a  sort  of  system  of  poor  relief.  We 
meet  with  an  ever-increasing  number  of  acts  of  liberality, 


42  CHPJSTIAN  CHAEITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHUHCII.       [book  i. 

presentations,  and  endowments,  which  are  of  a  more 
charitable  description.  Even  the  inscriptions  give  us 
glimpses  of  this.  Thus  a  freedman  of  Hadrian's  dedi- 
cates his  private  huiying-ground  not  only  to  his  relations 
and  friends,  as  in  former  days,  but  adds,  "  and  to  charity." 
Thus  the  foreigner  and  the  stranger  may  be  buried  there.^^ 
Here  some  one  builds  baths  expressly  for  foreigners,''^ 
There  a  certain  Cornelius  makes  provision  for  securing  a 
distribution  of  bread  in  the  surrounding  villages.^^  A 
drug-seller  leaves  a  number  of  boxes  of  healing  ointment 
to  be  given  to  the  sick  poor.'*  And  a  heathen  woman  is 
honoured  on  her  tombstone  as  a  "  mother  to  all  men ; " 
while  a  man  is  commemorated  as  good,  compassionate, 
and  kind  to  the  poor.'* 

This  is  indeed  the  turning-point.  This  heathen  influ- 
ence paving  the  way  for  the  advancing  Christianity  must, 
later  on,  even  after  Christianity  had  completely  gained 
the  upper  hand,  have  had  the  tendency  of  favouring  a 
combination  of  heathen  and  Christian  elements.  And 
we  shall  see  hereafter  how  strongly  indeed,  more  strongly 
than  men  are  accustomed  to  suppose,  heathen  customs 
and  the  ancient  idea  of  the  world  influenced  the  develop- 
ment of  charity ;  but  first  of  all  they  paved  the  way  for 
the  reception  of  Christian  ideas,  and  contributed  materi- 
ally to  their  spread  and  victory.  How  far  this  current 
of  thought  itself  was  modified  by  Christian  influences  it  is 
very  diflicult  to  say.  At  all  events,  the  charity  of  the 
Christian  made  a  great  impression  upon  the  heathen,  and 
it  is  hard  to  believe  that  this  should  not  have  brought 
forth  fruit  of  some  sort  or  other.  But  such  mutual  influ- 
ences are  in  their  beginnings  of  inappreciable  magnitude. 
They  are  first  noticed  only  when  the  beginnings  are  things 
of  the  past.     Therefore,  when  in  the  opening  of  the  third 


CHAP.  I.]  A  WOELD  WITHOUT  LOVE.  43 

century  Philostratus  makes  his  Apollonius  of  Tyana 
deliver  a  noble  speech  to  the  heathen,  in  which  he  remarks 
upon  the  sparrows,  how  they  call  each  otlier  to  feed,  and 
share  what  they  have  found,  and  warns  his  hearers  to  be 
of  mutual  support  to  one  another,  and  to  take  care  of  the 
poor,^^  these  sentiments  no  doubt  flow,  not  from  heathen, 
but  from  Christian  sources. 

But  amid  all  these  remains  the  deep-lying  difference 
between  the  ancient  and  the  Christian  life.  Heathendom 
did  not  of  itself  produce  a  real,  organized  charity ;  that 
is,  as  it  were,  something  quite  new  springing  from  Chris- 
tianity. The  ancient  world  stretched  forth  in  this  respect 
towards  Christianity,  but  could  not  of  itself  produce  what 
Christianity  brings.  It  still  is,  and  remains,  a  world 
without  love. 


CHAPTEE  II. 

UNDER  THE  LAW. 

The  case  of  Israel,  the  nation  which  knew  and  worshipped 
the  only  true  God,  is  different  from  that  of  the  rest  of  the 
heathen  world.  Of  course  we  do  not  find  even  in  Israel 
any  completely  organized  charity,  any  actual  system  of 
poor  relief.  But  there  was  not,  and  could  not  be,  a  great 
amount  of  poverty  or  any  considerable  proletariat.  The 
land-laws,  in  accordance  witli  which  the  land  always 
returned  after  appointed  intervals  of  time  into  the  hands 
of  the  family,  prevented  this ;  and  even  although  these 
land-laws  may  never  have  been  put  into  execution  to 
the  fullest  extent,  yet  the  character  of  the  people  as 
husbandmen,  the  want  of  the  greater  industries,  the 
simplicity  of  their  whole  life,  and,  above  all,  that  customary 
respect  paid  to  work  as  a  duty  imposed  by  God  upon 
every  man, — a  very  different  view  from  that  taken  by  the 
heathen, — all  these  things  prevented  any  of  the  more 
severe  kinds  of  distress.  Of  course  there  was  not  complete 
freedom  from  it.  There  were  poor  in  Israel  as  well  as 
elsewhere,  and  a  number  of  the  enactments  of  the  law  are 
devoted  to  the  relief  of  their  distress  and  the  softening  of 
their  fate.  The  olive-tree  is  not  to  be  twice  shaken,  the 
vineyard  is  not  to  be  twice  gathered,  nor  are  the  sheaves 
of  corn  left  in  the  fields  to  be  gleaned ;  all  that  belongs 
to  the  poor,  to  the  widow   and  the  orphan.     It  was 

M 


CHAP.  II.]  UNDER  THE  LAW.  45 

allowable  to  pluck  with  the  hand  the  ears  of  corn  while 
passing  through  a  neighbour's  field  (Dcut.  xxiii.  25), 
though  a  sickle  might  not  be  used.  AVliatever  crops 
grew  in  the  seventh  year  were  for  the  benefit  of  the  poor 
(Lev.  xxiii.  11).  They  have,  so  to  speak,  a  share  in  the 
land,  which  belongs  to  God  alone,  from  whom  Israel 
only  holds  it  in  loan.  The  idea  of  property  in  the  Old 
Testament  is  not  the  absolute  one  which  appears  in  the 
Eoman  law.  All  proprietorship  is  merely  relative  :  there 
is  bound  up  with  it  the  duty  of  allowing  others  also  to 
enjoy  a  share  of  it.  The  Lord  over  all  is  God,  and  He 
gives  it  to  whom  He  wills.  Every  mean  advantage  over, 
every  act  of  oppression  of  the  poor,  is  most  strictly 
forbidden ;  and  in  order  to  give  emphasis  to  this  com- 
mandment, the  people  are  reminded  of  the  time  of  their 
oppression,  when  they  also  were  strangers  in  Egypt  (Ex. 
xxii.  2 1).  All  usury  towards  their  fellow-countrymen  is 
forbidden  {ibid.  25).  All  debts  are  to  be  released  in  the 
seventh  year,  and  the  approach  of  that  seventh  year  is 
not  to  hinder  any  one  from  lending  to  the  poor  man  in 
distress  (Deut.  xv.  2  ff.).  "The  poor  shall  never  cease 
out  of  the  land :  therefore  I  command  thee,  saying,  Thou 
shalt  open  thine  hand  wide  unto  thy  brother,  who  is  poor 
and  needy,"  Upon  him  who  does  this  the  blessing  of 
God  will  descend ;  to  him  who  does  it  not,  the  omission 
will  be  reckoned  for  sin.  The  poor  man  is  to  receive 
his  wage  before  the  sun  goes  down  (Deut.  xxiv.  15). 
The  law  cares  most  anxiously  for  widows  and  orphans,  for 
"  God  is  a  father  of  the  fatherless  and  a  judge  of  the 
widows "  (Ps.  Ixviii.  5).  A  widow's  raiment  might  not 
be  taken  in  pledge,  and  both  widows  and  orphans  were 
to  be  invited  to  their  feasts.  An  institution  specially 
designed  for  the  protection  and  relief  of  the  poor  was  the 


46  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [BOOK  I. 

second  tithe,  the  so-called  poor's-tithe.  The  first  tithe 
belonged  to  the  Levites.  What  remained  over  was  again 
'tithed,  and  the  produce  of  this  second  tithe,  devoted  in 
the  first  two  years  to  a  feast  in  the  sanctuary  at  the 
offering  of  the  first-fruits,  was  devoted  in  the  third  year 
to  a  feast  in  the  dwelling-house,  to  which  the  Levites 
and  the  strangers,  the  widows  and  the  orphans,  were 
invited  (Deut.  xiv.  28,  29,  xxvi.  12,  13). 

But  these  legal  precepts  were  in  accordance  with  the 
ideas  of  the  people,  and  that  the  spirit  of  gentleness  which 
finds  expression  in  them  was  active  in  the  life  of  the 
people,  is  shown  by  the  Psalms  and  the  Proverbs  of 
the  Israelites.  Compassion  for  the  poor  and  distressed  is 
a  trait  which  must  not  be  wanting  in  the  character  of  a 
righteous  Israelite.  "  He  is  ever  merciful  and  lendeth  " 
(Ps.  xxxvii.  26);  he  "considereth  the  poor"  (Ps.  xli.  1) ; 
"  he  showeth  favour  and  lendeth  gladly "  (Ps.  cxii.  5). 
Job,  in  whom  is  portrayed  the  upright  man,  appears  as 
the  father  of  the  poor  (xxix.  16).  On  the  other  hand, 
the  want  of  compassion  is  a  distinguishing  feature  of  the 
ungodly.  "  The  tender  mercies  of  the  wicked  are  cruel " 
(Prov.  xii.  10).  For  God  Himself  is  compassionate  and 
gentle,  He  has  a  father's  heart  and  is  full  of  pity. 
Therefore  "he  that  hath  mercy  on  the  poor  honoureth 
God"  (Prov.  xiv.  31).  Herein  lies  a  deeper  reason  why 
that  spirit  of  compassion,  for  which  we  seek  in  vain 
among  the  heathen,  is  to  be  found  in  Israel.  Israel  has 
a  merciful  God,  who  is  considerate,  who  is  kindly, 
merciful,  and  full  of  help.  Therefore  the  poor  were 
viewed  by  the  Israelites  in  quite  a  different  light  from 
that  in  which  they  were  regarded  by  the  heathen.  Here 
there  is  no  trace  of  that  contempt  with  which  they  were 
treated  in  the  other  case.     On  the  contrary,  the  poor  and 


CHAP.  II.]  UNDER  THE  LAW.  47 

needy  stand  nearest  to  God.  He  cares  for  them,  He 
assures  their  rights,  He  raises  them  up  out  of  the  dust. 
And  the  loving  God  requires  from  mankind  love  in  return. 
"  Mercy  is  better  than  sacrifice"  (1  Sam.  xv.  22),  and 
right  and  beneficent  actions  are  more  pleasing  to  the 
Lord.  "  Is  not  this  the  fast  that  I  have  chosen  ?  to  loose 
the  bands  of  wickedness,  to  undo  the  heavy  burdens,  and 
to  let  the  oppressed  go  free,  and  that  ye  break  every 
yoke  ?  Is  it  not  to  deal  thy  bread  to  the  hungry,  and 
that  thou  bring  the  poor  that  are  cast  out  to  thy  house  ? 
when  thou  seest  the  naked,  that  thou  cover  him;  and 
that  thou  hide  not  thyself  from  thine  own  flesh  ? " 
(Isa.  Iviii.  6,  7).  Thus  there  is  a  double  motive  in  the 
commandment  to  be  compassionate ;  one  with  reference 
to  God,  since  mercy  is  the  true  way  in  which  to  serve 
Him,  and  one  with  reference  to  the  poor,  because  they  are 
our  flesh,  and  we  are  thus  connected  with  them.  It  is 
the  very  same  idea  as  that  which  found  its  highest 
expression  in  the  commandment :  "  Thou  shalt  love 
thy  neighbour  as  thyself,  for  I  am  the  Lord  thy 
God." 

We  have  thus  the  germ,  as  it  were,  of  that  charitable  life 
which  appears  in  full  vigour  in  the  New  Testament.  And 
yet  compassionate  love  in  the  Old  Testament  is  limited 
in  two  respects,  the  national  and  the  legal :  there  is  still 
wanting  that  universality  and  that  freedom  which  is  of 
the  essence  of  true  charity.  And  thus  the  way  of  the 
Old  Testament  does  not  of  itself  and  as  a  natural 
consequence  lead  to  the  charity  of  the  Christian  com- 
munity. It  may  also  lead,  and  it  did  lead, to  the  almsgiving 
of  the  Pharisees,  that  caricature  of  true  lov^e  for  one's 
neighbour.  Some  one  was  needed  to  come  and  sweep 
away  the    barriers  which    in    the    Old    Testament    still 


48  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.         [book  I. 

surrounded  it.  And  thus  the  charity  of  the  New  Testament 
is  something  fresh  even  as  compared  with  that  of  the  Old. 
It  would  indeed  be  too  narrow  an  interpretation  of  the 
Old  Testament,  if  we  were  to  say  that  by  the  neighbour, 
whom  the  Israelite  is  commanded  to  love,  is  meant  his 
fellow-countryman  alone.^  That  would  be  the  Pharisaic 
interpretation,  which  extracts  from  the  commandment, 
"  Thou  shalt  love  thy  neiglibour,"  its  converse,  "  but  hate 
thine  enemy,"  and  at  the  same  time  contracts  the  meaning 
of  the  word  "neighbour."  In  opposition  to  this,  let  us 
point  to  the  beautiful  precept  quoted  by  the  Apostle  Paul 
in  the  New  Testament :  "  If  thine  enemy  be  hungry,  give 
liim  bread  to  eat ;  and  if  he  be  thirsty,  give  him  water  to 
drink :  for  thus  shalt  thou  heap  coals  of  fire  upon  his 
head  "  (Prov.  xxv.  21,  22) ;  and  to  such  commands  as  this, 
that  one  must  restore  to  an  enemy  his  lost  cattle,  even  at 
the  expense  of  one's  own  time.  And  since,  in  reference 
to  this  matter,  it  is  of  a  personal  rather  than  of  a  national 
enmity  that  we  are  to  think,  we  see  that  the  stranger,  the 
non-Israelite,  was  by  no  means  regarded  simply  as  an 
enemy.  The  foreign  settler,  "  the  stranger  which  is 
within  thy  gates,"  is  not  without  rights.  "  Ye  shall  have 
one  ordinance,  both  for  the  stranger  and  for  him  that  is 
born  in  the  land"  (Num.  ix.  14).  The  stranger  is  to 
enjoy  the  rest  of  the  Sabbath,  is  to  be  invited  to  their 
feasts,  and  is  to  be  kindly  treated  (Ex,  xxii.  21,  xxiii.  9 ; 
Lev.  xix.  9,  xxiii.  22).  They  are  even  to  treat  him  as 
one  of  themselves  :  "  The  stranger  that  dwelleth  with  you 
shall  be  unto  you  as  one  born  among  you,  and  thou  shalt 
love  him  as  thyself"  (Lev.  xix.  34).  Moreover,  that  in 
this  respect  the  children  of  Israel  were  very  different  from 
the  heathen,  is  distinctly  seen  in  the  humane  regulations 
regarding    slaves.     How  carefully  (Ex.  xxi.    20  ff.)  are 


CHAP.  II.]  UNDER  THE  LAW.  49 

they  protected  against  the  cruelty  and  harshness  of  their 
masters,  and  how  far  beyond  the  heathen  mind  is  the 
delicacy  displayed  in  the  enactment,  that  whoever  takes 
to  wife  a  slave  from  among  the  captives  taken  in  battle, 
must  first  allow  her  a  month  in  which  to  bewail  father 
and  mother !  Of  course  the  stranger  has  not  exactly  the 
same  privileges  as  a  native.  The  usury  forbidden  in 
the  case  of  fellow-countrymen  is  permissible  as  regards 
him,  his  debts  are  not  released  in  the  seventh  year  like 
those  of  the  natives,  and  he  cannot  inherit  land.  And 
the  case  of  the  complete  stranger  differs  again  from  that  of 
the  foreign  settler,  although  even  in  his  case  also  there  is 
often  displayed  that  universalist  impulse  which  is  grounded 
on  the  Messianic  expectations  of  the  Israelites.  In  the 
prayer  at  the  dedication  of  the  temple,  Solomon  prays  for 
those  who  are  not  Israelites.  Melchizedek,  Abimelech, 
who  are  set  forth  as  persons  worthy  of  honour,  Job,  who 
is  the  pattern  of  uprightness — all  these  are  foreigners. 
Israel  is  the  first-born  of  God  (Ex.  iv.  22),  and  though 
he  therefore  has  some  advantages  on  that  account,  yet 
the  other  nations  are  not  shut  out  from  God.  But  all 
the  same,  as  Ewald  says,  "  The  principle  of  love  in  the 
Old  Testament  is  always  limited  by  the  idea  of  the 
nation."  Just  as  its  religion  still  lay  buried  in  a  husk 
of  nationality,  so  was  there  wanting  to  its  charity  the 
habit  of  looking  upon  men  as  men,  and  without  reference 
to  nationality.  That  universal  love  which  no  longer  asks. 
Who  is  my  neighbour  ?  but  looks  upon  every  man  as  a 
neighbour,  is  indeed  there  in  the  seed-form,  but  the 
universalism  is  still  buried  in  the  idea  of  the  nationality. 
Disinterment  is  required,  and  release  from  its  barriers  ;  but 
all  the  same  it  was  quite  possible  to  look  upon  the  shell 
as  the  principal  thing,  and  thus  to  pass  by  the  universalism, 

D 


50  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  I. 

In  just  the  same  manner  as  it  lacked  universality,  so 
also  did  cliarity  in  the  Old  Testament  lack  freedom ;  it 
is  still  bound  under  the  law.  Let  us,  in  order  to  make 
this  clear,  compare  the  New  Testament  with  the  Old. 
Nowhere  in  the  New  Testament  do  we  find  precepts 
enjoining  upon  Christians  the  duty  of  almsgiving  at 
prescribed  times,  in  prescribed  proportions,  or  in  pre- 
scribed ways.  The  feeling  of  love  for  one's  neighbour  is 
alone  enjoined ;  oat  of  this  the  deeds  of  love  will  quickly 
come.  Charity  is  quite  free  to  set  to  herself  her  own 
method  and  measure,  to  give  and  to  help  when  and 
where  and  in  what  degree  she  pleases.  "  Let  every  man 
do  according  as  he  is  disposed  in  his  own  heart,  not 
grudgingly  of  of  necessity,  for  the  Lord  loveth  a  cheerful 
giver ;"  such  is  now  the  commandment.  Nowhere  in  the 
New  Testament  do  we  find  directions  given  which  bear 
directly  upon  the  clearing  away  of  social  difficulties. 
The  removal  of  these  is  always  expected  to  proceed  from 
the  development  of  the  Christian  ideal,  to  grow  from 
within  outwards.  It  is  quite  otherwise  in  the  Old 
Testament.  We  have  already  discussed  a  number  of 
legal  regulations  bearing  directly  upon  the  amelioration 
or  removal  of  social  distress.  The  fulfilling  of  these 
precepts,  the  giving  of  tithes,  the  leaving  of  fields 
ungleaned,  the  releasing  of  debts,  and  all  such  things, 
constituted  in  the  eyes  of  the  Israelites  a  religious  duty, 
while  in  the  New  Testament  almsgiving  is  nowhere 
inculcated  as  such ;  all  that  the  New  Testament  requires 
of  Christians  in  reference  to  matters  of  charity,  is  simply 
the  fullilment  of  one's  customary  duties,  which  fulfilment 
grows  out  of  the  religious  life,  but  is  completely  free  in 
its  action.  We  must  not,  however,  conclude  that  in  the 
Old  Testament  only  the  outward  performance  is  required, 


CHAP.  11.]  UNDER  THE  LAW.  51 

and  not  the  inner  spirit.  The  passages  which  have 
already  been  quoted  from  the  Psahns  and  from  the 
prophets  would  show  the  opposite ;  but,  as  a  rule,  these 
exhortations  to  almsgiving  are  isolated,  and  hence  the 
possibility  may  arise  of  a  man  outwardly  punctually 
fulfilling  them  without  possessing  the  corresponding  spirit, 
just  as  he  would  outwardly  fulfil  the  ceremonial  law,  and 
then  think  that  he  had  done  enough.  This  difference 
between  the  Old  and  New  Testament  is  most  distinctly 
shown  in  the  commandment  of  love  for  one's  neighbour. 
Now  this  is  indeed  found  in  the  Old  Testament,  but 
separated  from  the  commandment  of  love  to  God.  It  is 
something  new  when  our  Lord  takes  the  two  command- 
ments together,  looks  upon  them  as  parallel,  and  combines 
them  in  one  precept,  teaching  that  true  love  to  God  can 
never  exist  without  love  for  one's  neighbour,  nor  true 
love  for  one's  neighbour  without  love  to  God,  and  that 
the  love  of  God  is  active  in  our  love  for  our  neighbour, 
the  latter  being  rooted  in  the  former.  Here,  in  one 
sense,  there  was  required  a  limitation  of  love,  and  with 
that  limitation  it  is  freed  from  the  fetters  of  the  law, 
freed  from  the  bonds  of  national  prejudice;  and  as  free 
love  it  becomes  universal  love. 

If,  then,  the  love  which  appeared  in  Christ  Jesus  is 
something  new  as  regards  Israel,  it  is  still  more  so  when 
we  consider  that  our  Lord  had  opposed  to  Him  not  the 
Israel  of  the  Old  Testament,  but  the  post-exilian  Judaism. 
In  the  case  of  the  latter  we  do  not  find  the  seeds  of  a 
free  and  universal  exercise  of  charity  sown  in  the  Old 
Testament  grown  into  the  fl.ower;  but,  on  the  contrary 
these  seeds  which  had  been  provided  have  been  destroyed 
and  in  their  stead  only  those  things  which  we  have 
designated  as   their  fetters  in  the  Old  Testament  have 


52  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.         [BOOK  I. 

received  a  oue-sided  cultivation.  There  are  two  charac- 
leristics  of  post-exilian  Judaism,  national  pride  and  the 
works  of  the  law.  To  the  commandment,  "  Thou  shalt 
love  thy  neighbour,"  was  added  the  clause,  "  and  hate 
thine  enemy ;"  and  by  neighbour  was  understood 
exclusively  fellow-Jew ;  every  foreigner,  every  non-Jew 
being  an  enemy.  Contempt  of  Gentiles  is  now  a  part  of 
piety,  and  is  a  sort  of  proof  of  zeal  for  God  and  for  His 
law.  And  while  this  national  pride  hemmed  charity  in, 
its  legal  aspect  must  have  corrupted,  if  not  altogether 
destroyed  it.  The  necessary  consequences  of  a  legal 
regulation  of  charity  are  of  two  kinds.  In  the  first  place, 
its  activity  is  at  once  split  up  into  a  number  of  isolated 
acts  of  almsgiving.  For,  while  the  truly  charitable  soul 
directs  his  endeavours  to  the  improvement  of  his  neigli- 
bour's  condition  and  the  prevention  of  social  distress,  the 
legal  precept  refers  only  to  individual  acts,  and  the 
accomplishment  of  these  is  suflicient.  And  again,  the 
laying  weight  upon  almsgiving,  and  upon  the  making 
one's  alms  as  large  as  possible,  is  always  a  sign  that  in 
that  instance  the  charity  is  charity  enacted  by  law.  So, 
then,  the  giving  of  alms  becomes  something  done  for  the 
sake  of  a  reward,  for  the  fulfilling  of  the  law  entails  a 
reward. 

Both  these  symptoms  of  a  legal  bondage  are  strongly 
prominent  in  the  post-exilian  Judaism.  What  a  stress  the 
Apocrypha  lay  upon  the  giving  of  alms,  how  often  do  they 
refer  to  it  (Tob.  iv.  8,  xii.  8  ;  Sir.  iii.  3,  xxix.  12),  how 
strong  a  feature  it  is  in  the  character  of  the  righteous 
men  as  presented  to  us  in  the  portrait  of  Tobias  !  Indeed, 
to  so  great  an  extent  has  the  giving  of  alms  come  by 
this  time  to  be  considered  as  a  principal  part  of  righteous- 
ness,  that  righteousness   and    almsgiving    have    become 


CHAP.  II.]  ,  UNDER  THE  LAW.  531 

synonymous.  Thus  the  Septuagint  in  the  passage  (Dan. 
iv.  27):  "  Break  off  thy  sins  by  righteousness,"  translates 
the  word  "righteousness"  by  "almsgiving;"  and  the  later 
Judaism  interprets  Ps.  xvii.  15:  "I  will  behold  Thy 
face  in  righteousness,"  in  such  a  way  as  to  deduce  from 
the  passage  the  duty  of  giving  alms  on  entering  the 
synagogue.  The  view  of  almsgiving  as  a  meritorious 
action  also  comes  prominently  forward.  Of  course,  in  the 
Old  Testament  the  blessing  of  God  is  promised  to  the  com- 
passionate and  merciful  man  :  "  He  that  hath  pity  on  the 
poor  lendeth  to  the  Lord :  and  that  which  he  hath  given 
will  He  pay  him  again  "  (Prov.  xix.  1 7) ;  but  nowhere  is 
there  any  expiatory  virtue  attached  to  the  alms.  Even 
the  passage  in  Dan.  iv.  2  7,  when  Daniel  warns  the  king : 
"  Break  off  thy  sins  by  righteousness,  and  thine  iniquities 
by  showing  mercy  unto  the  poor,"  has  not  this  meaning ; 
for  here  righteousness  signifies  not  the  giving  of  alms,  but 
the  whole  change  to  a  right  moral  conduct,  in  addition  to 
which  the  second  half  of  the  verse  names  as  a  generally 
important  part  of  such  conduct,  benefactions  to  the  poor. 
But  this  (latterly  so  much  abused)  passage  forms  the 
bridge  of  con\munication  with  those  sentences  of  the 
Apocrypha  which  clearly  point  out  alms  as  having  an 
expiatory  effect.  The  beautiful  counsel  which  Tobias  gives 
to  his  son  (Tob.  iv.  5  ff.) :  "  Be  merciful  after  thy  power. 
If  thou  hast  much,  give  plenteously ;  if  thou  hast  little,  do 
thy  diligence  gladly  to  give  of  that  little,"  is  followed 
by  "for  so  gatherest  thou  thyself  a  good  reward  in  the 
days  of  necessity.  For  thine  alms  loosen  thee  from  sin, 
and  leave  thee  not  in  the  fear  of  death."  In  another 
passage  almsgiving  is  joined  with  prayer  and  fasting : 
"  Such  a  prayer  with  fasting  and  almsgiving  is  better 
than  the  heaping  up  of  treasures  of  gold ;  for  alms  release 


.54  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.        [BOOK  I. 

from  death,  atone  for  sin,  and  support  in  life "  (Tob, 
xii.  8).  "  As  water  extinguisheth  a  burning  fire,  so.  do 
alms  blot  out  sin,"  says  Siracli,  iii.  33. 

These  ideas  were  still  more  prominent  amongst  the 
Pharisees  in  the  time  of  our  Lord  and  in  the  Talmud. 
The  Pharisees  give  alms,  but  without  charity ;  it  is  the 
public  performance  of  a  work  of  the  law.  It  is  not  the 
welfare  of  their  neighbour  that  they  bear  in  mind,  but 
their  own  glory.  When  they  give  alms,  they  sound  a 
trumpet  before  them,  that  they  may  be  seen  of  men. 
Thereafter,  they  set  about  the  robbing  of  widows'  houses. 
The  Talmud  calls  almsgiving  a  great  commandment. 
The  giving  of  alms  leads  to  eternal  life,  and  preserves  one 
from  untimely  death.  He  who  gives  them  never  dies 
prematurely.^  Again,  the  giving  of  alms  is  one  of  those 
things  that  prevail  to  alter  the  judgment  of  God  upon  us, 
for  (Prov.  X.  2  and  xi.  4)  it  is  written :  "  Pighteousness 
delivereth  from  death,"  and  here  "  righteousness "  is 
considered  as  synonymous  with  "  almsgiving."^  The 
protection  of  strangers  and  the  visiting  of  the  sick  is 
specially  recommended.  He  who  protects  a  stranger 
inherits  Paradise ;  he  who  visits  the  sick  will  be  saved 
from  hell.  There  is  a  characteristic  passage  in  the 
treatise  of  Pirke  Aboth,  which  is  undoubtedly  the  finest 
part  of  the  Talmud.  "  Four  classes  of  men  are  there  in 
respect  of  almsgiving.  One  gives  himself,  but  will  not 
that  another  should  give.  He  casts  the  evil  eye  upon 
the  other,  for  he  grudges  him  the  blessing  of  almsgiving, 
which  maketh  rich.  The  second  allows  others  to  give, 
but  will  not  give  himself.  He  casts  the  evil  eye  upon 
himself  and  his.  The  third  gives  himself,  and  wishes 
others  to  give.  He  is  chasid  (devout).  The  fourtli  gives 
not,  nor  wills   that  others  should  give.     He  is  godless."* 


CHAP.  II.]  UNDEK  THE  LAW.  55 

Moreover,  the  Talmud,  when  it  speaks  of  almsgiving, 
does  so  only  with  reference  to  giving  to  one's  own  fellow- 
countrymen.  Alms  should  neither  be  given  to  nor 
accepted  from  the  heathen  !  It  is  only  permitted  for  the 
sake  of  peace.  Kindness  and  compassion  is  in  no  sense 
their  due.** 

Certainly  in  the  time  of  Jesus  there  was  no  lack 
amongst  the  Israelites  of  almsgiving,  and  of  splendid 
almsgiving  too.  This  is  sufficiently  clear  from  the  fact 
that  our  Lord  speaks  as  of  something  perfectly  well 
understood,  when  He  says :  "  Wlien  thou  givest  thine 
alms."  It  is  also  pointed  to  by  the  gifts  of  the  wealthy 
thrown  into  the  treasury,  as  well  as  by  the  alms  of 
Cornelius.  The  Emperor  Julian  certifies  to  the  fact  that 
amongst  the  Jews  in  his  time  there  were  no  beggars. 
And  in  our  own  day,  what  a  ready  disposition  to  mutual 
support  has  been  shown  by  the  Jews,  especially  the  Jews 
of  the  dispersion !  But  although  there  was  plenty  of 
alms,  there  was  but  little  charity  apparent ;  and  in  spite 
of  the  ostentatious  almsgiving  of  the  Pharisees,  we  must 
pass  upon  Israel,  even  in  the  time  of  Jesus,  the  judg- 
ment that  it  was — a  world  without  love.  With  regard 
even  to  the  children  of  Israel,  charity,  as  it  was 
manifested  in  Jesus,  was  something  new. 


CHAPTEE    III. 

THE  MANIFESTATION  OF  LOVE  IN  CHRIST  JESUS. 

That  which  was  wanting  both  in  heathenism  and  in 
Judaism,  is  to  be  found  in  the  Christian  community. 
From  the  very  beginning  not  only  did  its  members,  each 
in  his  own  sphere,  recognise  compassion  for  the  distressed 
as  one  of  the  necessary  duties  of  their  new  life,  but  the 
community  as  such  from  the  very  outset  accepted  as  a 
task  laid  upon  it  the  practice  of  charity  by  means  of  its 
different  organizations.  And  although  this  practice,  like 
the  life  of  the  community  generally,  sank  often  in  the 
course  of  time  to  a  very  low  ebb,  it  never  altogether 
failed.  The  Christian  Church  can  never  be  conceived  of 
as  without  charity :  it  was  inherent  in  it  from  the  very 
beginning.  And  it  was  so,  not  only  because  its  Lord  and 
Head  taught  love  and  commanded  love,  but  because  He 
Himself  practised  it.  He  was  not  only  a  teacher  of  love, 
or  a  lawgiver  of  love,  but  His  life  was  also  the  first 
example  of  a  life  of  love.  It  was  not  the  maxims  which 
He  uttered  about  it,  nor  the  commandments  winch  He  gave, 
but  the  fact  that  in  Him  personally  love  was  manifest, 
that  moved  by  love  He  came  to  us,  and  lived  upon  earth 
a  life  which  from  its  very  first  breath  to  its  latest  was 
spent  in  the  service  of  love,  and  that  He  finally,  through 
the  greatness  of  His  love,  gave  Himself  for  us  to  the 
death  of  the  cross ;  that  is  the  beginning  and  the  never- 

66 


CHAP.  III.]     THE  MANIFESTATION  OF  LOVE  IN  CHRIST.  5  7 

failing  source  of  charity  amid  His  followers.  The 
beginning  and  the  end  of  the  history  which  we  wish  to 
narrate  lies  in  these  words  of  the  Master  :  "  The  Son 
of  man  came  not  to  he  ministered  unto,  but  to  minister, 
and  to  give  His  life  a  ransom  for  many."  ^ 

It  is  not  from  the  idea  of  the  Church  that  we  must  set 
out,  but  from  the  idea  of  the  kingdom  of  God;  for  Christians 
exercise  charity  not  in  respect  of  their  membership  of  the 
Church,  but  in  respect  of  their  membership  of  the  kingdom 
of  God.  Only  when  we  have  learned  that  the  exercise  of 
charity  is  a  necessary  proof  of  belonging  to  that  kingdom, 
will  we  be  able  to  understand  why,  and  with  what  idea, 
and  in  what  degree,  the  Church  has  been  the  supporter  of 
this  exercise. 

The  whole  work  of  our  Lord  may  be  summed  up  in 
this,  that  He  founded  upon  earth  the  kingdom  of  heaven, 
the  kingdom  of  God.  But  the  kingdom  of  God  is  the 
community  of  men,  in  which  God  is  absolute  and  undis- 
puted Master.  God  is  love,  and  therefore  the  kingdom  of 
God  is  a  kingdom  of  love :  and  the  community  of  those 
who  have  been  reconciled  to  God  in  Christ  must  hallow 
its  whole  life  and  conduct  by  love.  The  whole  duty  of 
members  of  the  kingdom  of  God  is  comprehended  by  our 
Lord  in  one  word :  "  Be  ye  therefore  perfect,  as  your 
Father  which  is  in  heaven  is  perfect,"  and  again  :  "  Be  ye 
therefore  merciful,  as  your  Father  also  is  merciful."  The 
righteousness  of  the  kingdom  of  God,  which  our  Lord 
enjoins  upon  His  people,  is  nothing  else  than  the  ordering 
of  their  whole  life  in  accordance  with  the  law  of  love.  It 
is  in  this  very  matter  that  their  righteousness  approves 
itself  as  better  than  that  of  the  scribes  and  Pharisees, 
since  these  omitted  the  weightest  matters  of  the  law,  love 
and  mercy,  whilst  the  members  of  the  kingdom  of  God 


5  8  CHRISTIAN  CHAEITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.        [BOOK  I. 

practise  them.  No  doubt  the  comraandments  of  love : 
"  Thou  slialt  love  God  above  all,"  and  again  :  "  Thou  shalt 
love  thy  neighbour  as  thyself,"  are  found  in  the  Old 
Testament.  But  our  Lord  takes  the  two  together,  and 
elevates  the  commandment  of  love  into  the  one  foundation 
of  the  kingdom  of  God.  Love  for  our  neighbours  is  nothing 
outside  or  independent  of  love  to  God,  but  is  its  active 
exercise. 

Hence  all  the  barriers  which  restrained  love  on  every 
side  have  been  broken  down.  The  heathen  world  could 
never  fully  realize  that  all  men  without  distinction  are  the 
proper  objects  of  our  love.  Polytheism  entailed  as  a 
necessary  consequence  divisions  among  men.  Only  where 
the  one  true  God  was  recognised  could  the  unity  of  the 
human  race  be  recognised.  The  mysterious  philosophical 
recognition  of  this  unity  by  the  Stoics  was  not  sufficient. 
For  philosophy  is  at  all  times  the  privilege  of  the  few  only. 
It  was  only  in  religious  soil  that  the  universal  duty  of 
love  could  strike  root,  for  only  religion  is  altogether 
universal.  Amongst  the  Jews  the  knowledge  of  the  one 
God  was  indeed  present,  but  love  to  God  and  love  to  man 
were  torn  asunder.  The  Pharisees,  who  paid  tithe  of 
mint  and  anise  and  cumin,  and  yet  devoured  widows' 
houses,  considered  that  they  had  shown  sufficient  of  their 
love  to  God  by  the  punctual  observance  of  the  ceremonial 
law,  whilst  they  omitted  that  wherein  love  to  God  is 
truly  shown,  namely,  love  to  men.  With  them  it  was : 
"  Corban,  it  is  a  gift,  by  whatsoever  thou  mightest  be 
profited  by  me."  But  so  soon  as  love  to  one's  neighbour 
is  seen  to  be  the  exercise  of  love  to  God  and  the  neces- 
sary sign  of  belonging  to  His  kingdom,  then  are  all  the 
barriers  which  surround  it  broken  down.  As  in  respect 
of  the  kingdom  of  God  aU  differences  of  nationality,  of 


CHAP.  III.]      THE  MANIFESTATION  OF  LOVE  IN  CHRIST.  59 

rank,  and  even  of  sex  are  without  significance,  so  also  are 
they  in  respect  of  love.  It  is  remarkable  that  in  the 
parable  of  the  good  Samaritan  our  Lord  only  says: 
"  A  certain  man  went  down  from  Jerusalem  to  Jericho  and 
fell  among  thieves,"  without  particularizing  the  man  in 
any  way,  either  as  to  his  country,  his  rank,  or  his  religion. 
We  do  not  need  to  know  all  this ;  it  is  a  matter  of  no 
importance.  Enough  for  us  if  we  know  that  he  is  a  man, 
and  therefore  our  neighbour.  For  all  men  without 
distinction  are  appointed  to  be  members  of  the  kingdom 
of  God,  and  he  to  whom  the  kingdom  of  God  has  become 
the  chief  object  of  his  life,  sees  over  again  in  the  object  of 
every  man's  life  that  of  his  own,  and  holds  himself  pledged 
to  assist  every  one  to  attain  to  it.  And  all  other  barriers 
have  also  fallen  down.  As  the  kingdom  of  God  lays  its 
claims  upon  all  men,  so  also  does  love.  "We  cannot  in 
respect  of  it  absolve  ourselves  by  a  certain  statutory, 
well-defined  quantity  of  actions :  it  requires  us  to  place 
at  its  service  our  whole  persons,  and  all  that  we  possess. 
Love  can  admit  of  no  other  aim  but  this  one,  namely,  the 
aiding  of  our  neighbour  in  his  efforts  to  attain  what  is  the 
highest  aim  in  life,  membership  of  the  kingdom  of  God  : 
it  may  not  cherish  any  collateral  aims  such  as  honour, 
advantage,  or  reward,  but  must,  fully  unrestrained  in  this 
particular,  be  a  completely  self-denying  love. 

This  love  to  our  neighbour  embraces  more  than  well- 
doing, but  it  includes  the  whole  of  that.  For,  since  life 
here  upon  earth  finds  its  object  in  the  kingdom  of  God,  so 
everything  that  is  done  to  aid  the  life  of  our  neighbour, 
and  so  to  order  it  as  to  make  the  attainment  of  this  end 
most  feasible,  must  work  towards  that  great  end.  There- 
fore our  Lord  includes  almsgiving  amongst  the  necessary 
proofs  of   love    to    our  neighbour,  and    in    Matt.    xxv. 


60  CHEISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.        [BOOK  I. 

enumerates  the  works  of  mercy  which  must  be  engaged  in 
by  His  own  people,  the  "  righteous,"  that  is  to  say,  such  as 
belong  to  the  kingdom  of  God  and  strive  after  its  right- 
eousness. These  are  the  six  recognised  works  of  mercy, 
"  feeding  the  hungry,  giving  water  to  the  thirsty,  clothing 
the  naked,  protecting  the  stranger,  tending  the  sick,  visiting 
the  prisoner ; "  and  to  these  the  Church,  in  order  to  complete 
the  sacred  number  of  seven,  has  added  "  burying  the  dead."'' 
But  all  these  works  possess  true  worth  only  in  so  far  as 
they  tend  to  the  higher  object  than  that  of  helping  that 
distress  which  is  nearest  to  one,  which  is  ready  to  hand, 
namely,  the  advancement  of  the  kingdom  of  God.  They 
possess  their  value  in  that  they  are  done  to  Christ  in  the 
persons  of  the  distressed.  Therein  is  expressed  both  their 
motive  and  their  end.  Their  motive  is  love  to  Christ,  and 
their  end  is  His  service,  or  what  is  the  same  thing,  what 
they  do  they  do  as  members  of  the  kingdom  of  God,  and 
in  order  to  the  advancement  of  that  kingdom. 

Hence  "it  becomes  clear  how  very  different  from  that 
of  the  heathen  world  was  the  treatment  of  the  poor  in 
the  Christian  world.  In  the  Greco-Eoman  world  the 
pauper  was  despised  as  a  cipher,  and  whatsoever  was 
given  him  considered  as  thrown  away.  And  quite 
naturally  so,  for  the  poor  man  was  of  no  service  to  tlie 
State,  and  thus  there  was  no  object  in  preserving  his  life 
or  in  maintaining  him.  The  only  object  which  the  giving 
of  alms  upon  grounds  of  expediency  alone  can  have, 
namely,  that  of  making  the  poor  happy  in  this  world,  is 
in  most  cases  altogether  unattainable.  If  no  aim  beyond 
this  life  is  recognised,  there  is  no  higher  object  to  be 
gained  by  almsgiving.  Christ  sees  in  every  man,  even 
in  the  poorest  and  most  miserable,  a  human  being  whose 
privilege  it  is  to  become  a  member  of  the  kingdom  of  God. 


CHAP.  III.]     THE  MANIFESTATION  OF  LOVE  IN  CHRIST.  61 

This  end  is  in  all  cases  attainable,  even  although  we  have 
to  allow  that  it  is  not  in  our  power  to  relieve  all  the 
distress  and  misery  in  the  world  :  for  misery  and  distress 
are  no  hindrance  to  any  man's  being  or  becoming  a  mem- 
ber of  the  kingdom  of  God.  It  is  a  truly  heathen  idea 
to  say,  as  a  reason  for  desisting  from  works  of  mercy : 
"  All  this  is  of  no  use ;  we  can  never  make  all  men 
happy."  For  that  is  not  the  only  object  of  Christian 
charity.  It  has  a  much  higher  end  in  view,  and  all  that 
is  done  in  the  way  of  removing  or  alleviating  misery  and 
distress,  is  only  done  as  a  means  towards  this  higher  end, 
the  advancement  of  the  kingdom  of  God.  Accordingly  it 
is  a  fundamental  misconception  of  the  work  of  Christ  and 
of  Christianity  to  say,  speaking  from  the  social  point  of 
view,  that  the  work  of  Christ  has  failed,  and  that  Christi- 
anity has  not  succeeded  in  fulfilling  the  task  set  before  it, 
since  there  is  at  the  present  time  quite  as  much  distress 
and  misery  in  the  world  as  before.  As  though  Christ 
had  wished  to  be  a  social  reformer  ;  when  what  He  really 
did  was  to  proclaim  that  in  comparison  with  the  highest  end 
in  life,  social  position  is  a  matter  of  absolute  unimportance, 
and  to  appoint  to  human  life  an  object,  attainable  by  every 
one,  namely,  the  kingdom  of  God,  in  which  every  one  may 
have  a  share,  be  his  outward  position  what  it  may,  be  he 
rich  or  poor,  high  or  low,  freeman  or  slave.  It  was  not 
to  take  away  poverty  that  Christ  appeared ;  on  the 
contrary,  He  says :  "  The  poor  always  ye  have  witli  you" 
(John  xii.  8).  He  came  to  bring  the  poor  into  the 
kingdom  of  God.  He  did  not  come  to  put  an  end  to  all 
the  distress  in  the  world :  on  the  contrary.  He  says  to 
His  disciples :  "  In  the  world  ye  shall  have  tribulation" 
(John  xvi.  33).  He  came  to  comfort  the  broken-hearted 
and  sorrowing.     Not  social  reform,  but  the  founding  of 


62  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.        [BOOK  L 

the  kingdom  of  God  was  His  life's  work.  And  He  did 
found  that  kingdom  which  is  in  Himself,  and  when  this 
is  realized,  then  are  the  influences  which  flow  from  Christ 
and  play  upon  the  social  side  of  our  life  found  to  be 
sanctifying  and  healing;  but  they  are  only  the  consequences 
of  the  inner  change,  and  hence  only  indirectly  experienced. 
They  are  of  the  things  which  are  "  added  unto "  those 
who  seek  first  after  the  kingdom  of  God.  Hence  it  must 
appear  that  it  would  be  imputing  an  erroneous  motive  to 
Christian  charit}^,  and  adopting  a  wrong  standard  whereby 
to  judge  of  its  history,  were  we  to  ask  how  far  it  has 
succeeded  in  doing  away  with  all  poverty,  and  in  making 
all  here  upon  earth  outwardly  happy. 

It  will  be  necessary,  however,  to  define  still  more 
clearly  the  aim  and  peculiar  object  of  Christian  charity. 
We  have  already  had  several  opportunities  of  observing 
that  true  Christian  charity  cannot  exist  where  there  is 
no  object  beyond  this  life  to  be  attained.  To  view  the 
world  as  being  exclusively  of  this  life,  is  fatal  to  all 
charity.  The  ultimate  consequence  is  always  this :  He 
who  has  not  the  means  of  living  must  die ;  for  him  life 
has  no  value,  and  therei'ore  whatever  may  be  done  to 
preserve  his  life  is  also  valueless.  At  the  same  time, 
however,  charity  will  wither  and  perish  where  the  world 
is  viewed  exclusively  from  the  standpoint  of  the  future 
life.  The  Middle  Ages  afford  us  a  proof  of  this.  The 
charity  itself  does  not  indeed  change,  but  its  task,  its 
object,  is  completely  altered.  People  perform  works  of 
mercy  not  for  the  sake  of  helping  the  poor,  but  for  their 
own  sakes,  that  they  may  receive  the  reward  for  so 
doing.  If  the  kingdom  of  God,  which  was  brought  to  us 
by  our  Lord,  had  been  purely  a  thing  of  the  future,  of  the 
next  world,  then  the  gospel  of  that  kingdom  could  have 


CHAP.  III.]     THE  MANIFESTATION  OF  LOVE  IN  CHRIST.  63 

evoked  no  charity.  For  this  life  would  no  longer  have 
possessed  any  worth,  and  to  leave  him  to  die  would  be 
doing  the  poor  a  better  service  than  to  keep  him  in  a  life 
which  can  only  be  one  of  misery  and  distress.  Charity 
places  before  herself,  on  the  one  hand,  a  higher  aim  of  life, 
transcending  the  limits  of  this  present  existence ;  and,  on 
the  other  hand,  the  true  value  of  the  earthly  existence  as 
a  means  towards  the  attainment  of  that  aim.  She  cannot 
be  properly  developed  where  this  life  itself  is  looked 
upon  as  the  highest  and  only  good,  but  only  where  it  is 
considered  as  but  relatively  good — as  good,  that  is  to 
say,  only  inasmuch  as  it  leads  to  the  highest  good  of 
all.' 

Now  the  kingdom  of  God,  viewed  as  perfect  and  com- 
plete, is  indeed  a  thing  of  the  next  world,  a  thing  of  the 
future ;  but  as  growing,  it  is  a  thing  of  this  world  and  of 
the  present  time.  It  is  a  gift  of  the  grace  of  God,  but 
at  the  same  time  it  involves  the  laying  of  a  task  upon 
us.  The  importance  of  the  present  time  is  that  now, 
after  the  Master  has  gone  away,  the  servants  must  trade 
with  the  talents  entrusted  to  them  until  He  come  again. 
The  whole  of  this  earthly  life,  with  aU.  its  natural 
relations  of  family,  state,  and  society,  is  the  material  for 
the  exercise  of  the  righteousness  of  the  kingdom  of  God. 
Midst  work  and  sorrow,  while  fulfilling  his  earthly  calling, 
and  while  bearing  the  sorrows  which,  under  God,  overtake 
him,  every  man  must,  in  the  place  appointed  him  by  God, 
keep  himself  a  member  of  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  the 
peculiar  task  of  charity  is  to  render  this  a  possibility  for 
every  one  who  is  willing  to  try.  She  strives,  therefore, 
imitating  the  example  of  her  Master,  to  save  the  lives  of 
men  wherever  she  can.  For  every  human  life  possesses 
worth,  since  every  one,  whoever  he  may  be,  is  called  upon 


64  CHRISTIAN  CHARTY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.        [BOOK  I. 

in   some  way   or  other,  be  it  through  labour  or  be  it 
through  sorrow,  to  fulfil  his  task  as  regards  the  kingdom 
of  God.      It  is  not  a  conceivable  thing  that  there  can  be 
any  human  life  of  no  value  to  this  kingdom.      Therefore 
charity  strives  to  put  every  man  in  such  a  position  as  to 
make  it  possible,  and  so  far  as  practicable,  easy  for  him 
lightly  to  perform  his  life's  task.    In  the  natural  relations 
of  this   life,  complicated   by  sin,  lie  many  hindrances, 
which  make  it  difficult  for  men  to  fulfd  their  life's  task 
as  members  of  the  kingdom  of  God.      Such  hindrances 
are  to  be  found  especially  in  the  contrast  between  rich 
and  poor.     Poverty  may  make  it  impossible  for  any  one 
to  work,  and  thus  by  his  work  to  fulfil  his  duty  as  a 
member  of  the  kingdom.      Then  it  is  the  task  of  Charity 
to  give  him  such  assistance  as  shall  put  him  again  in  a 
position  to  do  his  work.      She  strives  to  make  the  poor 
independent  again,  not   only  that   they  may   be  raised 
above  the  need  for  further  assistance, — for  that  would  be 
a  very  low  view  of  the  -^case,  and  would  not  answer  to 
true  love, — but  in  order  that  they  may  again  fulfil  their 
calling.     Any  man  may  become  so  poor  or  be  in  such 
distress  that  it  is  difficult  or  well-nigh  impossible  for  him 
to  bear  his  sorrows  with  patience,  thanking  God,  as  a 
member  of  the  kingdom  should.     Then  Love  steps  in  and 
does  her  duty ;  she  lightens  his  sorrows,  so  that  he  can 
bear  them  in  patience,  and  learn  even  amid  his  suffering 
to  thank  God. 

We  can  now  understand  how  consistent  our  Lord  is^ 
in  that  while,  on  the  one  hand.  He  simply  alludes  to 
property  and  to  the  difference  between  the  rich  and  poor, 
and  declares  that  this  difference  is  of  no  importance  in 
respect  to  the  heavenly  kingdom.  He  yet,  on  the  other 
hand,  exhorts  His  followers  to  labour  with  love  to  remove 


CHAP.  III.]       THE  MANIFESTATION  OF  LOVE  IN  CHRIST.  65 

this  difference.  It  must  be  removed  in  so  far  as  it 
hinders  any  individual  from  filling  his  place  in  the 
kingdom. 

It  has  indeed  been  held  that  our  Lord  despised  all 
earthly  possessions,  and  that  those  only  perfectly  ful- 
filled His  commandments  who  renounced  all  property. 
Certainly,  if  we  would  overcome  the  world,  we  must 
renounce  the  world ;  only  he  who  inwardly  is  free  irom 
it,  is  its  master.  So  is  it  also  with  earthly  possessions ; 
if  our  hearts  are  free  from  the  love  of  them,  then  are  we 
no  more  servants,  but  lords.  This  is  all  that  our  Lord 
means  when  He  warns  us  against  the  service  of  mammon, 
and  exhorts  us  to  lay  up  for  ourselves  treasures  not  on 
earth,  but  in  heaven.  This  inward  renunciation  carries 
■with  it  always  readiness  to  resign  outwardly  also  all 
earthly  possessions,  in  so  far  as  this  is  required  in  the 
interests  of  the  kingdom.  Our  Lord  requires  this  of  the 
rich  young  man  (Matt.  xix.  17,  etc.),  not  that  He  may 
signify  thereby  a  command  which  is  to  be  binding  on  all 
true  Christians,  nor  that  He  may  point  out  thereby  a  higher 
grade  of  Christianity,  a  sort  of  standard  of  perfection,  but 
becau.se  the  task  which  the  young  man  wished  to  take 
upon  himself,  that,  namely,  of  bei'ng  a  disciple  and  apostle 
of  Jesus,  involved,  in  the  circumstances  of  that  time,  the 
surrender  of  all  property ;  and  also  because  He  wished  to 
lead  him  to  recognise  the  fact  that  he  was  not  yet  free 
within  from  the  bonds  of  his  wealth.  Hence  also  that 
lament  which  our  Lord  pronounces  over  the  rich,  and  His 
saying :  "  It  is  easier  for  a  camel  to  go  through  the  eye 
of  a  needle,  than  for  a  rich  man  to  enter  into  the  kingdom 
of  God."  But  these  involve  no  abandonment  of  wealth 
as  such.  For  they  refer  to  those  selfish  men  who  employ 
their  wealth  only  for  the  satisfaction  of  their  personal 

E 


66  CHKISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  I. 

pleasure,  instead  of  serving  others  with  it.  All  wealth 
is  property  held  in  trust ;  we  are  but  tenants  of  it. 
Property  does  not  give  rights  alone  ;  it  brings  with  it 
duties.  He  who  possesses  earthly  wealth  must  make  it 
of  service.  And  this  service  embraces  within  it  the 
smoothing  away  of  difference  of  position  in  respect  of 
wealth.  Our  Lord  will  not  remove  this  distinction.  It 
remains  and  must  remain,  for  it  is  part  of  the  divinely 
ordered  creation.  To  the  individuality  of  a  man  belong 
not  only  those  peculiarities  which  distinguish  him  from 
other  men,  his  talents  and  his  inclinations,  but  also  his 
possessions.  But  as  all  these  differences  are  so  arranged 
as  to  make  up  a  mutual  whole,  so  also  must  the  differences 
of  property  be  so  arranged,  through  the  instrumentality  of 
the  work  of  love,  in  so  far  as  the  objects  of  the  kingdom 
of  God  require  it.  Herein  lay  the  sin  of  the  rich  man,  in 
that  he  did  nothing  to  bridge  over  the  difference  between 
himself  and  the  poor  Lazarus  whom  God  had  laid  before 
his  door.  Therefore  he  receives  his  punishment ;  it  is 
that  in  the  next  world  the  difference,  which  is  now  a 
difference  the  other  way,  may  not  be  bridged  over  (Luke 
xvi.  19-31). 

It  is  as  the  rendering  of  a  service  that  almsgiving 
attains  its  true  worth.  The  value  of  it  lies  not  in  the 
associated  renunciation  of  part  of  our  earthly  possessions, 
but  in  the  love  manifested  in  it,  the  service  done  by  it. 
Therefore  our  Lord  esteems  the  farthing  of  the  widow 
more  highly  than  the  large  gifts  of  the  wealthy  (Mark 
xii.  41).  The  story  of  the  widow's  mite,  however,  does 
not  refer  directly  to  this  point,  since  it  deals  with  the 
casting  of  money  into  the  treasury,  not  as  alms,  but  as 
an  offering  to  the  temple ;  but  at  the  same  time  it 
implies  a  rule  which  holds  good  of  all  voluntary  offer- 


CHAP,  in.]       THE  MANIFESTATION  OF  LOVE  IN  CHRIST.  67 

ings.  Therefore  our  Lord  lays  down  no  statutory  regu- 
lations for  almsgiving,  either  by  appointing  outward  laws 
for  it,  or  by  appointing  that  it  should  bear  a  fixed  pro- 
portion to  one's  means.  He  does  not  do  the  one  because 
He  requires  of  us  not  the  outward  work,  but  the  inward 
love,  which  will  itself  lead  to  action ;  and  He  does  not 
do  the  other  because  He  requires  of  us  in  asking  for  our 
love  not  a  part  only,  but  the  whole.  Where  it  is  necessary, 
and  when  love  requires  it  of  them,  His  people  will  sell 
all  that  they  have  and  give  to  the  poor. 

Our  Lord  therefore  appoints  the  duty  of  almsgiving 
without  adding  conditions  or  limitations :  "  Give  to  him 
that  asketh  of  thee"  (Luke  vi.  30  ;  Matt.  v.  42).  This 
is  no  rhetorical  hyperbole ;  our  Lord  wishes,  to  express  in 
this  way  the  fact  that  Love  finds  her  only  limits  within 
herself.  His  followers  must  never  place  outward  limits 
upon  their  love  by  saying :  "  To  so  and  so  will  I  not 
give."  But  Love  is  not  thereby  excluded  from  setting 
limits  to  herself.  Where  Love  herself  forbids  the  gift,  it 
is  not  given ;  for  it  may  be  necessary  to  withhold  the 
gift  for  Love's  sake.  But  in  other  respects  slie  gives  to 
every  one.  Therefore  our  Lord  expresses  the  inexhaustible 
nature  of  love.  It  can  never  be  exhausted.  The  inward 
bonds  of  property  have  all  been  cast  off.  Whatever  a 
disciple  of  Jesus  has,  he  holds  for  the  good  of  all.  But 
it  is  only  the  self-seeking  barriers  of  property  that  have 
been  removed.  Love  takes  care  of  her  possessions,  that 
she  may  be  able  to  use  them.  The  same  Lord  who 
exhorts  His  followers  that  if  necessary  they  must  count 
their  possessions  as  naught,  and  be  ready  to  sacrifice 
them  all,  caused  the  fragments  left  after  the  feeding  of 
the  thousands  in  the  wilderness  to  be  taken  up. 

This  affords  us  an  explanation  of  a  passage  which  is 


68  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  1- 

at  the  first  glance  very  remarkable,  and  which  requires 
reference  and  discussion  the  more  on  account  of  its 
having  been  of  tlie  highest  importance  in  the  history  of 
charity — that,  namely,  from  Luke  xi.  41:  "  But' rather 
give  alms  of  such  things  as  ye  have ;  and,  behold,  all 
things  are  clean  unto  you."  It  might  appear  as  though 
an  expiatory  virtue  were  here  assigned  to  alms  ;  and  in 
this  way  the  passage  was  very  frequently  misinterpreted 
in  the  Middle  Ages.  But  it  is  impossible  that  our  Lord 
could  have  meant  that,  for  He  would  then  have  been 
giving  utterance  to  that  very  error  of  the  Pharisees 
against  which  He  contends.  It  is  not  the  property 
itself  that  is  here  stigmatized  as  unclean,  that  must  first 
be  purified;. but  the  unclean  thing  is  the  self-seeking 
which  clings  to  the  property.  There  is  in  earthly 
possessions  a  wonderful  inducement  to  selfishness.  How 
many  does  wealth  render  heartless  !  Therefore  we  must 
purify  ourselves  from  this,  and  we  do  so  by  inwardly 
releasing  ourselves  from  its  power.  This  inward  freedom, 
however,  finds  room  for  exercise  in  the  giving  of  alms, 
and  first  becomes  an  accomplished  fact  in  the  giving  of 
alms.  It  is  a  blessing  upon  almsgiving,  and  our  Lord 
wishes  to  point  out  this  blessing  in  the  fact  that  the 
man  thereby  becomes  inwardly  freed  from  his  worldly 
possessions,  and  that  thus  they  lose  their  power  over  him. 
Neither  does  the  passage  assign  what  some  have 
discovered  in  it  in  later  days,  a  standard,  that  is  to  say, 
to  tell  us  what  proportion  of  his  income  every  one  must 
give  away  .  in  alms.  The  words  which  have  been 
translated,  "  of  such  things  as  ye  have,"  have  been  taken 
to  mean,  "  of  such  things  as  are  superfluous  to  you,"  and 
upon  this  has  been  based  an  obligation  to  give  to  the 
poor  all  that   is    not    absolutely   necessary  for   oneself.* 


CHAP.  III.]       THE  MANIFESTATION  OF  LOVE  IN  CHRIST.  69 

Our  Lord  has,  however,  never  laid  down  any  such 
obligation.  He  has  nowhere  limited  the  rights  of 
property  to  such  things  as  are  absolutely  necessary  for 
life.  On  the  contrary,  at  the  marriage  of  Cana  He 
provided  wine  in  abundance,  and  defended  against  sordid 
fault-finders  the  sacred  luxury  displayed  by  Mary  in 
anointing  Him. 

Our  Lord  requires  of  us  the  giving  of  alms,  without 
any  reference  to  the  receiving  of  a  reward.  Of  the 
Pharisees,  who  stand  at  the  corners  of  the  streets  and 
sound  a  trumpet  before  them.  He  says  :  "  They  have 
their  reward."  Of  His  own  He  requires  that  they  give 
their  alms  in  secret,  nor  let  their  left  hand  know  what 
the  right  hand  doeth.  But,  on  the  other  hand.  He 
Himself  promises  a  reward  to  those  who  do  the  works  of 
mercy.  Even  a  cup  of  cold  water,  with  which  one  of 
His  people  is  refreshed,  will  not  pass  without  reward. 
But  the  promised  reward  is  not  an  outward  one,  or  one 
connected  with  the  alms ;  it  is  one  lying  within  them- 
selves. He  who  advances  the  kingdom  of  God  in  others, 
advances  it  also  in  himself.  He  who  is  merciful  wins 
for  himself  always  more  and  more  of  the  mercy  of  God. 
"  Blessed  are  the  merciful,  for  they  shall  obtain  mercy." 
Thus  we  heap  up  for  ourselves  abiding  treasures  in 
heaven ;  thus  we  make  friends  to  ourselves  of  the 
mammon  of  unrighteousness,  and  find  an  entrance  into 
the  eternal  mansions. 

Our  Lord  Himself  gave  alms.  Himself  performed  works 
of  mercy.  Let  us  remember  it  well.  He  is  in  this 
respect  also  the  founder  of  charity  within  His  com- 
munity. It  is  no  pleasantry,  though  it  may  here  and 
there  degenerate  into  such,  that  leads  us  to  distinguish 
establishments  for  Christian  charity  by  Bible  names,  to 


70  CHRISTIAN  CHAEITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [boOK  I. 

call  a  deaconess-house  "Bethany,"  a  hospital  for  the 
deaf  and  dumb  "  Ephphatha,"  or  a  refuge  for  fallen  women 
"  Magdalene."  We  would  imply  by  so  doing  that  our 
work  is  but  a  continuance  of  the  Master's  work.  He 
first  took  pity  upon  the  sick,  the  blind,  the  leprous,  and 
the  dumb,  brought  back  the  unfortunate  to  a  godly  life, 
gave  bread  to  the  hungry  in  the  wilderness ;  and  every 
one  of  these  works  of  His  has  been  as  it  were  a  seed  of 
corn,  which  has  in  the  course  of  centuries  brought  forth 
fruit  a  thousand-fold.  He  does  all  this,  moreover,  so 
that  it  may  not  fail  to  be  observed  by  them,  before  the 
eyes  of  His  disciples,  in  the  midst  of  the  circle  of 
believers  which  He  calls  around  Him,  in  order  that  thus 
His  disciples  may  themselves  take  part  in  His  actions. 
At  His  orders  they  give  to  the  poor  (John  xiii.  29)  ; 
when  He  feeds  the  thousands  in  the  wilderness,  they 
distribute  the  bread  and  fishes,  and  have  to  serve  at 
tables  (Matt.  xiv.  1 9) ;  they  lead  to  Him  the  blind  man 
who  has  appealed  to  His  pity.  They  are  in  this  way 
led  into,  educated  into  a  life  of  charity.  Moreover,  the 
employment  of  women  in  works  of  charity,  which  has 
been  of  so  much  importance  in  the  development  of  the 
same  in  the  Christian  Church,  is  anticipated.  There  is  a 
circle  of  serving  women  surrounding  our  Lord,  which  is  a 
type  of  the  deaconesses  and  of  all  charitable  women,  in 
whom  the  history  of  the  Church  is  so  rich.  This  circle 
of  men  and  women  disciples  which  surrounds  our  Lord 
is  nothing  else  than  the  growing  Church ;  and  in  this 
growing  Church  there  thus  already  lie  the  germs  and 
possibilities  of  charity.  In  the  Church  at  Jerusalem  is 
continued  what  had  been  already  begun  :  care  is  taken 
of  the  poor  and  needy,  just  as  they  had  learned  to  do 
from  our   Lord  Himself   when  in  His  company.     And 


CHAP.  III.]       THE  M.4NIFESTATI0N  OF  LOVE  IN  CHRIST.  71 

then,  when  the  Church  spread  beyond  Jerusalem  and 
beyond  the  Jews,  she  understood  for  herself  that  in 
every  community,  just  as  in  the  motlier-community, 
care  must  be  taken  of  the  poor,  and  works  of  mercy 
attended  to. 

And  thus  charity  was  implanted  in  the  Christian 
communities  from  the  very  outset :  they  received  it  from 
their  Lord  Himself.  It  is  not,  however,  peculiar  to  them 
alone.  Just  as  the  kingdom  of  God  and  His  Church  are 
not  co-extensive,  so  also  Christian  and  Church  charity 
are  not  co-extensive  ;  just  as  the  kingdom  of  God  has  a 
wider  embrace  than  the  Church,  so  also  does  charity 
extend  beyond  the  Church.  The  State,  burgh  com- 
munities, corporations,  all  take  part  in  the  performance 
of  this  work.  It  is  owing  to  a  morbid  one-sidedness 
that  in  the  Middle  Ages  charity  becomes  exclusively 
ecclesiastical,  and  it  is  the  consequence  of  falsely 
identifying  the  Church  with  the  kingdom  of  God,  and 
placing  them  in  opposition  to  the  State  as  the  kingdom 
of  this  world.  But  we  should  be  one-sided  also,  only  in 
the  opposite  direction,  were  we,  as  several  are  inclined  to 
do  now-a-days,  to  contest  with  the  Church  its  riglit  to 
the  exercise  of  charity,  and  especially  to  the  relief  of 
the  poor,  and  to  prefer  to  her,  with  her  vast-reaching 
embrace,  other  organizations.  If  the  consequence  of  the 
exclusively  ecclesiastical  character  of  the  charity  of  the 
Middle  Ages  were  disastrous  to  it,  they  would  be  not  less, 
but  more  disastrous  to-day  if  the  Church  were  excluded 
from  it.  As  there  could  be  no  kingdom  of  God  upon 
earth  without  the  Church,  so  would  charity  soon  die  out 
in  all  other  spheres  if  the  Church  desisted  from  it ;  and 
whatever  rendering  of  assistance  and  care  for  the  poor 
there  might  remain,  would  be  of  quite  a  dilferent  character 


72  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH,       [book  I. 

from  compassionate  love.  For  all  love  has  its  origin  in 
the  love  of  God  in  Christ  Jesus,  of  which  the  Church  is 
witness,  not  only  by  her  words,  but  also  by  her  deeds, 
inasmuch  as  she  practises  the  works  of  charity.  From 
her  is  derived  the  call  to,  as  well  as  the  strength  for, 
charity  in  all  other  spheres ;  she  shows  to  its  every  form 
that  its  highest  end  lies  in  the  advancement  of  the 
kingdom  of  God  ;  she  leads  us  to  love,  just  as  our  Lord, 
while  He  Himself  did  works  of  mercy,  taught  His 
disciples  to  do  the  same.  Just  as  the  idea  of  the 
kingdom  of  God  is  more  comprehensive  than  that  of  the 
Church,  while  the  Church  is  the  central  point  of  the 
kingdom  of  God  upon  earth  ;  so  also  is  Christian  charity 
more  comprehensive  than  that  of  the  Church,  but  the 
Church  is  and  remains  the  central  point.  Let  us 
remember  that  there  could  not  be  any  real  charity  in 
the  heathen  world  because  there  was  no  community. 
There  is  one  now ;  our  Lord  has  founded  it.  The  day 
of  Pentecost  was,  as  it  were,  the  birthday  of  the  Church ; 
and  it  was  also  the  birthday  of  that  Christian  charity 
which  is  inseparable  from  the  Church. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

FOUNDATIONS  AND  BEGINNINGS  IN  THE 
APOSTOLIC  AGE. 

The  church  of  Jerusalem  was  at  first  merely  the  enlarged 
circle  of  disciples.  The  three  thousand  baptized  at 
Pentecost  were,  as  St.  Luke  very  significantly  says  (Acts 
ii.  41),  "  added  "  to  the  church.  The  church  thoroughly 
bore  the  character  of  the  family,  and  was,  even  in  its 
manner  of  life,  only  the  continuation  of  the  family-like 
circle  by  which  our  Lord  was  surrounded.  In  this  circle 
community  of  goods  had  prevailed.  Its  members  lived 
upon  what  was  given  not  merely  by  those  outside,  but 
also  by  those  within  it.  They  contributed  according  to 
their  means  to  their  common  maintenance.  And  this  con- 
tinued after  the  Lord's  departure,  during  the  days  before 
Pentecost,  in  the  company  of  the  hundred  and  twenty,  and 
also  when  this  company  had  been  enlarged,  by  the  out- 
pouring of  the  Holy  Spirit  and  the  preaching  of  St.  Peter, 
into  the  church  first  properly  so  called.  Each  contributed 
of  that  which  was  his  own  to  what  was  necessary  for 
tlie  common  maintenance,  without  thereby  depriving 
himself  of  all  property.  Still  less  were  any  compelled  to 
do  this,  or  to  persevere  in  it,  by  any  decree  of  the  church. 
The  family  feeling  was,  however,  so  strong,  that  none  of 
them  said  "  that  ought  of  the  things  which  he  possessed 

73 


X 


74  CIIRISTIA.N  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  I. 

was    his    own,  but    they    had    all  things    in   common" 
(Acts  xviii.  32). 

This  was  the  so-called  community  of  goods  in  the 
church  of  Jerusalem.  There  could  be  no  falser  represen- 
tation of  it,  than  to  think  of  it  as  an  institution  similar  to 
those  prevailing  among  the  Essenes  and  Therapeutaj.  It 
is  far  more  correct  to  represent  the  state  of  things  as  au 
absence  of  institutions  of  any  kind.  We  might  as  well 
speak  of  the  institution  of  a  community  of  goods  in  a  family. 
But  as  in  a  family  the  consciousness  cf  belonging  to  each 
other  is  so  strong  as  entirely  to  subordinate  the  individual 
possessions  of  each  member,  so  was  it  in  the  primitive 
church.  The  boundaries  of  private  property  were  inter- 
nally abolished,  and  so  far  as  this  was  necessary  for  the 
service  of  the  community,  the  individual  also  gave  up  his 
possessions  externally,  sold  his  lands  and  houses,  and 
brought  the  price  to  the  common  treasury  presided  over 
by  the  apostles.  No  one  was,  however,  obliged  to  do  this. 
St.  Peter  emphatically  declared  to  Ananias  tliat  he  might 
have  kept  his  land,  and  also  that  after  he  had  sold  it 
he  might  have  retained  its  price  (Acts  x.  4).  Such  dis- 
tribution was  au  act  of  perfectly  free  love,  but  this  was 
powerful  enough  to  level  the  existing  inequalities  of 
property,  so  that  there  were  none  in  the  church  who 
lacked  anything.  Still  the  fact  with  which  we  are 
dealing  is  not' the  institution  of  community  of  goods,  but 
noble  almsgiving,  a  free  equalization  of  possessions, 
carried  out  in  the  glow  of  first  love  to  the  largest-hearted 
and  greatest  extent,  and  differing,  not  in  kind,  but  only  in 
degree  and  extent,  from  what  we  subsequently  meet  with 
in  the  Church  at  Jerusaleui  and  elsewhere.  This  explains 
the  reason  why  we  find  in  the  Acts  not  the  slightest  hint 
of  the  abolition  of  a*  previously  existing  institution,  nor 


CHAP.  IV.]  FOUNDATIONS  AND  BEGINNINGS.  75 

any  notice  of  its  extension  to  other  churches,  a  fact  which 
appears  a  striking  proof  of  the  correctness  of  our  view. 

As  in  family  life  community  is  especially  prominent  in 
the  common  meals,  so  also  was  it  in  the  family  of  the 
Jerusalem  church.  Common  meals,  with  which  was 
combined  the  celebration  of  the  Lord's  Supper,  were  daily 
partaken  of.  These  were  the  so-called  Agcqxc  or  love- 
feasts.  And  these  it  was  which  made  a  i'ormal  institu- 
tion, an  official  appointment  necessary.  Hitlierto  the 
entire  direction  of  the  church  had  lain  in  the  hands  of 
the  apostles.  They  had  served  in  "  the  word,"'  and  had 
also  "  served  tables "  (Acts  vi.  2).  But  the  two  offices 
could  no  longer  remain  united.  The  chief  duty  of  the 
apostles  could  not  but  sufter  amidst  the  various  labours, 
which  "  the  serving  of  tables,"  the  equalization  of  property 
carried  out  in  perfectly  free  love  in  the  increasing  cluirch, 
involved ;  and  if  the  apostles  still  regarded  the  ministra- 
tions of  the  word  as  their  first  duty,  it  is  not  surprising 
if  one  thing  or  another  was  overlooked  in  the  daily 
administration  of  charity.  St.  Luke,  at  least,  gives  no  hint 
that  the  complaint  of  the  Hellenists,  that  their  widows 
were  neglected,  was  unreasonable.  Hence,  on  the  pro- 
posal of  the  apostles,  seven  men  were  chosen  "  over  this 
business." 

It  is  generally  thought  that  these  seven  men  were  the 
first  deacons,  and  that  their  selection  was  the  institution 
of  the  diaconal  office,  or  to  view  it  more  broadly,  of  an 
office  for  the  administration  of  charity,  besides  that  fur 
the  ministration  of  the  word.^  For  my  part,  I  think  this 
view  a  mistaken  one.  First  of  all,  it  is  striking  that  they 
are  never  called  deacons,  but  always  the  seven.  Certainly 
their  office  is  called  a  "  serving  of  tables,"  and  this  expres- 
sion it  is  which  has  chiefly  led  to  their  being  regarded  as 


76  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [boOK  I. 

the  first  deacons.       But  the  expressions  "  to  serve  "  and 
"  service  "  are  used  in  the  New  Testament  of  every  kind  of 
ministration  existinn;  in  the  ehnrch,  and  not  only  of  that 
of  the  deacons.''^     Still  more  striking  is  it,  that  St.  Luke 
never  afterwards  mentions  the  seven  in  the  church  of 
Jerusalem,  although  he  does  presbyters  (elders)  (Acts  xi. 
30,  XV,  G),  and  that,  nevertheless,  he  nowhere  tells  us 
that  the  former  office  was  abolished  and  the  latter  insti- 
tuted.      If  this  observation  borders  upon  the  conjecture, 
that  the  seven  were  not  the  first  deacons,  but  the  first 
elders,  or,  to  express  it  more  correctly,  that  their  office, 
at  first  instituted  for  a  single  and  quite  special  need,  was 
afterwards  gradually  enlarged  into  the  office  of  elder,  the 
conjecture  becomes  a  certainty  by  the  further  considera- 
tion, that,  according  to  the  express  testimony  of  the  Acts, 
the  administration  of  alms  was  subsequently  in  the  hands 
of  the  elders  even  in  Jerusalem.      The  relief,  which  the 
church  at  Antioch  collected  for  the  poor  in  Jerusalem  at 
the  time  of  the  famine  under  Claudius,  was  delivered  not 
to  the  seven,  but  to  the  elders  (Acts  xi.  30).       Of  course, 
the  matter  may  be  so  represented  as  to  make  the  office  of 
the  seven  last  only  as  long  as  the  community  of  goods 
existed,  to  have  been  done  away  with  at  the  same  time, 
and  elders  to  have  been  then  appointed  for  the  general 
direction  of  the  church.      But  we  have  already  seen  that  a 
formal  abolition  of  the  community  of  goods  is  out  of  the 
question.       Besides,  when  the  equalization  of  property  in 
its  first  and  wider  extent  ceased,  it  still  remained  in  a 
more  limited  measure  ;  for  gifts  were  still  given,  and  alms- 
giving always  practised.       There    would,  therefore,  still 
have  been  room  for  the   agency  of  the   seven,  not    to 
mention  the  circumstance  that  it  would  be  strange  if  St. 
Luke  should  give  no  account  at  all  of  such  far-reaching 


CHAP.  IV.]  FOUNDATIONS  AND  BEGINNINGS.  "77 

alterations  in  the  government  of  the  church,  but  let  the 
seven  disappear  and  the  elders  appear  upon  the  scene 
without  a  word.  We  must  then  picture  to  ourselves  the 
development  in  the  following  manner.  The  seven  were 
at  first  chosen  to  discharge  a  special  present  need,  that  of 
serving  tables,  while  the  management  of  the  church  was, 
in  all  other  respects,  left  with  the  apostles  who  were  still 
in  Jerusalem.  When  the  apostles  subsequently  left 
Jerusalem,  the  management  also  passed  into  the  hands  of 
the  seven,  whose  office  was  thus  gradually  enlarged  till  it 
reached  that  of  the  elders,  and  was  afterwards  designated 
by  this  name. 

It  is,  moreover,  a  mistake  to  represent  the  diaconate 
as  the  "  office  of  mercy,"  the  "  office  of  almonry."  The 
management  of  works  of  mercy,  of  almsgiving,  was  never 
conceded  to  the  deacons.  It  was  in  the  hands  of  the 
presbyters  and  afterwards  of  the  bishops,  and  the  deacons 
only  gave  their  assistance.  And  this  is,  in  general,  the 
position  of  deacons  in  the  organism  of  the  church.  The 
constituting  office  is  that  of  the  elders ;  it  is  they  who 
govern  and  manage  the  entire  church  life,  and  without 
their  office  a  well-regulated  church  is  inconceivable.  To 
them  the  deacons,  whose  office  it  is  to  furnish  assistance 
in  the  most  varying  respects  to  the  church  and  the  elders, 
are  subordinate.  Their  office  is  related  to  that  of  the 
elders  as  the  gift  of  "  helps  "  is  to  that  of  "  governments."^ 
It  is  true,  that  to  assist  the  elders  in  the  care  of  the  poor 
is  so  essential  a  branch  of  this  help,  that  "  diaJcon,ia"  means 
also  almsgiving.  The  management,  however,  was  always 
in  the  hands  of  the  bishops  or  elders,  and  a  special  "  office 
of  almoner  "  never  existed  as  well  as  the  office  of  elder. 

It  is  striking  that  deacons  are  so  seldom  mentioned  in 
the  New  Testament.      They  only  occur  expressly  twice, 


78  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [boOK  I. 

viz.  in  Phi],  i.  1,  where  they  appear  in  the  salutation, 
together  with  the  elders,  as  officers  of  the  church,  and  in 
1  Tim.  iii.  8,  where  the  apostle  gives  directions  to  them 
as  well  as  to  the  elders.  They  are  nowhere  else  found. 
Paul  and  Barnabas  ordained  elders  in  the  churches  they 
founded  (Acts  xiv.  23),  but  nothing  is  said  of  deacons. 
Similarly  does  St.  Paul  command  Titus  to  ordain  elders  in 
the  cities,  but  never  mentions  deacons  (Tit.  i.  5).  In  the 
First  Epistle  also  of  St.  Peter,  we  meet  indeed  with  elders, 
but  not  with  deacons.  At  all  events,  it  is  hence  evident 
that  they  fall  far  behind  the  elders.  There  could  not  have 
been  a  church  without  elders,  there  certainly  could  have 
been  one  without  deacons.  For  their  services  could  be 
very  well  rendered,  at  least  wliile  a  church  was  still  small, 
by  such  members  as  were  fit  and  willing  to  undertake 
them,  without  their  assuming  any  specially  official 
character.  This  is  shown  especially  by  the  passage 
(1  Cor.  xvi.  15),  so  interesting  with  respect  to  the  origin  of 
the  office,  where  it  is  said  of  the  household  of  Stephanas, 
"  it  is  the  first-fruits  of  Achaia,  and  they  have  given 
themselves  to  the  ministry  of  the  saints.'"*  Such  volun- 
tary services  were,  of  course,  the  earliest,  and  correspond 
with  the  origin  of  offices  in  the  church.  Two  things 
appertained  to  an  office,  the  gift  and  the  calling,  i.e.  the 
recognition  of  the  gift,  the  charge  to  exercise  it  in  a 
special  circle.  The  order  was  not,  first  the  appointment 
of  offices  by  the  apostles,  but  the  bestowal  of  gifts  by  the 
Lord, — gifts  which  were  then  freely  exercised,  and  not 
comprised  into  an  office  until  necessity  and  order  required 
it.  This  was  especially  tlie  case  with  the  diaconate. 
Those  who  had  the  requisite  gifts  and  love  rendered  of 
their  own  accord  the  service  afterwards  allotted  to  the 
deacons,  and  it  was  not  till  the  increase  of  the  church 


CHAP.  IV.l  FOUNDATIONS  AND  BEGINNINGS.  79 

rendered  this  needful  that  a  regular  office  grew  up  out  of 
the  free  gift  and  love.  The  circumstance,  that  centuiies 
afterwards  we  find,  besides  the  deacons  maintained  by  the 
church,  others  who  were  not  so  maintained,  but  gave  their 
services  gratuitously,  is  a  further  proof.  Nay,  in  a  certain 
sense  this  occurrence  is  ever  and  again  repeated  in  the 
sphere  of  active  charity.  Where  new  needs  make  new 
work  necessary,  the  Lord  endows  one  and  another  with  the 
gift  and  the  impulse  required  for  such  work.  It  is  at 
first  done  freely,  and  afterwards,  when  it  has  proved  itself 
permanently  needful  and  efficacious,  it  gradually  passes 
into  a  regular  office.  The  diaconate  is  moreover,  by  its 
very  nature,  of  a  more  fleeting  character  than  the  office  of 
governing.  Every  Christian  is  to  be  a  servant  with  his 
gift  and  in  his  circle  (1  Pet.  iv.  10).  While,  then, 
deacons  are  but  seldom  spoken  of  in  the  New  Testament, 
serving  and  service  very  frequently  occur.  Besides,  if 
there  are  persons  on  whom  service  is  officially  incumbent, 
their  official  action  and  their  personal  service  pass  into 
each  other.  In  the  office  of  ruling  this  is  not  the  case ; 
this  was  by  its  nature  from  the  very  first  nioie  exclusive. 
Not  every  Christian  is  a  presbyter ;  but  every  one  is  really 
and  naturally  a  deacon,  a  servant  of  all. 

The  female  diaconate  was  evidently  even  more  transient, 
and  this  is  the  reason  why  the  notices  of  it  in  the  ancient 
church  are  so  difficult  to  combine  into  a  whole.  There 
undoubtedly  were,  even  in  apostolic  times,  i'eiiiak'S  to 
whom  the  diaconate  was  officially  committed.  Such  a 
female  deacon  (the  name  "  deaconess  "  does  not  occur  in 
the  New  Testament)  was  Thcebe,  to  whom  the  apostle 
delivered  the  Epistle  to  the  Eomans,  and  whom  he 
designates  as  a  deacon  of  the  church  at  Cenchrea. 
Whether    the    subsequently  named  Tryphcena  and  Try- 


80  CHEISTIAN  CHAIilTY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH,       [boOK  I. 

phosa  (ver.  12)  and  Persis,  of  whom  the  apostle  says 
"they  laboured  much  in  the  Lord,"  were  deaconesses,  or 
only  women  who  from  love  to  the  Lord  freely  performed 
the  same  services  as  deaconesses,  cannot  be  determined. 
Still  less  probable  is  it  that  Euodia  and  Syntyclie,  men- 
tioned Phil,  iv.  2,  were  deaconesses.  On  the  other  hand,  I 
am  convinced  that  the  injunctions  given,  1  Tim.  iii.  2,  do 
not  apply,  as  is  mostly  supposed,  and  as  even  Luther  by 
inserting  the  word  "  tlicir  "  in  his  translation  assumes,  to 
the  wives  of  deacons,  but  to  deaconesses.^  Of  the  position 
of  deaconesses  and  the  extent  of  their  services,  nothing 
certain  can  be  learnt  from  the  New  Testament.  Still  the 
above-mentioned  passage  borders  on  the  conclusion,  that 
their  service  was  rendered  in  the  liouses  of  members  of 
the  church,  on  which  account  the  apostle  requires  them 
not  to  be  slanderers,  carrying  gossip  from  one  house  to 
another ;  and  also  that  they  had  to  do  with  the  distribu- 
tion of  alms  for  the  poor,  whence  he  specially  enjoins 
them  to  be  "  faithful  in  all  things."  Quite  different  in 
kind  is  the  institution  of  widows,  mentioned  1  Tim.  v. 
3  sqq.  The  deaconesses  were  in  the  first  place  called  to 
render  service,  and  then  received,  if  needful,  their  main- 
tenance from  the  church ;  while  in  the  case  of  widows, 
as  their  age  (above  sixty  years)  and  the  injunction  of  the 
apostle,  that  no  widow  who  could  be  supported  by 
believing  relatives  should  be  admitted  on  the  list,  show, 
maintenance  was  the  main  point.  Besides  this,  however, 
they  received,  as  "  widows  indeed,"  who  had  proved  their 
Christian  faith  by  holy  behaviour  and  active  benevolence, 
an  honourable  position  in  the  church,  and  also  rendered 
such  services  as  their  age  permitted,  though  the  apostle 
gives  more  prominence  to  the  obligation  of  prayer  and 
intercession,  of  continuing  in  supplications  and  prayers 


CHAP.  IV.]  FOUNDATIONS  AND  BEGINNINGS.  81 

night  and  day.^  For  the  rest,  we  must  not  imagine  that 
this  official  organization  of  charity  in  the  earliest  times 
was  as  stable  as  it  afterwards  became.  This  would  not 
correspond  with  the  character  of  the  times,  in  which  it 
was  far  from  the  custom  to  commit  exercises  of  mercy 
to  officially  instituted  individuals.  On  the  contrary,  they 
then  still  bore  for  the  most  part  a  private  character,  each 
doing  wdlingly  and  gladly  what  he  could.  The  Acts 
speak  of  a  Christian  woman,  Tabitha  of  Joppa,  whose 
works  of  love  are,  in  a  certain  sense,  held  up  as  typical, 
without  saying  a  word  of  her  occupying  any  official 
position,  although  her  care  extended  to  persons  who,  as 
widows,  were  otherwise  cared  for  by  the  church.  There 
may  have  been  many  who,  like  Tabitha,  were  "full  of 
good  works  and  alms-deeds,"  without  being  deacons  or 
deaconesses.  Circumstances,  too,  were  certainly  very 
different  in  different  churches.  While  Tabitha  was  volun- 
tarily ministering  to  the  poor  in  the  church  at  Joppa,  the 
official  position  was  elsewhere  predominant.  Only  the 
outlines  of  an  organization  of  charity  existed.  Besides 
the  voluntary  efforts  of  individual  members,  churches  as 
such  assumed  through  their  organs  the  care  of  the  needy. 
The  management  of  this  charity  also  fell  to  the  elders, 
who  were  assisted  by  official  but  subordinate  deacons 
and  deaconesses,  or  even  by  widows  or  other  qualified 
persons. 

Let  us  not  forget  that  it  was  in  this  very  organization 
of  charity  that  a  novelty  existed ;  but  at  the  same  time 
let  us  not  overlook  the  fact  that  this  organization  itself 
originated  solely  in  the  new  spirit  by  which  the  church 
was  animated.  We  recognise  this  spirit  in  the  apostolical 
Epistles.  We  will  therefore  collect  the  main  features,  at 
least,  of  what  these  teU  us  concerning  charity. 

r 


82  CHRISTIAN  CHAIIITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [bOOK  I. 

In  Eph.  iv.  28,  St.  Paul  says:  "Let  him  that  stole 
steal  no  more:  but  ratlier  let  him  labour,  working  with  his 
hands  the  thing  that  is  good,  that  he  may  have  to  give  to 
him  that  needeth."  lu  these  words  three  points  are  con- 
nected, upon  the  true  moral  appreciation  and  correct  com- 
bination of  which  depends  the  healthiness  of  moral  life, 
while  all  its  diseases  are  occasioned  by  the  wrong  moral 
appreciation  of  these  three  points,  and  by  their  separation 
from  each  other.  To  understand  the  development  and 
form  of  charity  in  the  different  ages  of  the  Church,  we 
shall  have  to  test  each  epoch  by  its  position  with  regard 
to  these  three  points,  by  the  soundness  of  its  moral  judg- 
ment with  respect  to  labour,  property,  and  alms,  and  we 
shall  find  that  not  only  does  failure  in  one  point  involve 
failure  in  another,  but  that  the  entire  charity  of  the  age 
also  correspondingly  varies. 

In  the  above-quoted  words  the  apostle  already  lays 
down  labour  as  the  duty  of  a  Christian ;  and,  indeed, 
derives  the  injunction  to  work  from  the  prohibition  to 
steal.  Not  to  work  is  also  to  steak  For  he  who  does  not 
in  some  manner  take  an  active  part  in  the  production  of 
earthly  goods,  lives  in  one  way  or  another  at  the  expense 
of  his  working  fellow-men.  Still  more  decidedly  is  the 
command  to  work  brought  forward  in  1  Thess.  iii.  12, 
where  the  apostle  expressly,  in  the  "name  of  Jesus," 
lays  down  the  command  "  to  work  with  quietness."  For 
a  Christian  to  work,  then,  is  an  essential  feature  in  the 
manifestation  of  his  Christian  life,  and  the  apostle,  con- 
sequently, would  exclude  from  the  Christian  Church  tlie 
idlers  who  walk  disorderly,  and  holds  himself  up  as  an 
example  to  the  Church  on  this  very  point.  This  he  does 
with  an  unmistakeable  touch  of  pride.  He  regards  it  as 
his  glory  and  honour  not  to  have  eaten  any  man's  bread 


CHAP.  IV.]  FOUNDATIONS  AND  BEGINNINGS.  83 

for  nought,  but  to  have  wrought  with  labour  and  travail 
day  and  night,  that  lie  might  be  a  burden  to  no  one. 
Labour,  in  the  vocation  assigned  to  each  by  God,  is,  however, 
always  meant.  A  Christian  is  to  work  "  with  quietness  ;" 
he  is  not  to  rush  from  one  thing  to  another,  but,  constantly 
aiming  at  one  point,  to  persevere  in  doing  wliat  God  has 
assigned  him  in  his  vocation.  It  is  true  tliat  Scripture 
never  speaks  of  the  earthly  calling.  When  a  calling  is 
spoken  of,  as  it  very  often  is,  the  heavenly  call,  the  call 
to  the  kingdom  of  God,  is  intended.  But  this  calling 
includes  the  earthly,  for  it  is  in  the  work  of  his  earthly 
calling  that  each  is  to  work  out  his  call  to  the  kingdom 
of  God,  to  promote  the  interests  of  that  kingdom,  by 
doing  his  part  towards  fulfilling  that  great  task — imposed 
on  man  at  the  creation — of  subduing  the  earth.  It  is  a 
matter -of  indifference  what  the  individual  calling  may  be. 
The  relation  of  the  earthly  calling  is,  with  respect  to  the 
kingdom  of  God,  an  entirely  neutral  one.  A  man  may 
be  bond  or  free,  married  or  single,  and  in  either  condition 
may  equally  have  part  in  the  kingdom  of  God.  Or,  to 
express  it  positively,  every  calling  can  and  may  become 
the  material  which  is  to  be  worked  up  into  and  made  to 
manifest  the  Christian  life,  adoption  of  God,  and  partici- 
pation in  His  kingdom.  Hence  the  rule  (1  Cor.  vii.  20): 
"  Let  every  one,  even  the  slave,  abide  in  the  same  calling 
wherein  he  was  called."  Tor  the  slave,  too,  may  be,  and 
prove  himself,  a  member  of  the  kingdom  of  God.  It  is 
thus  that  labour  regains  its  moral  dignity,  its  honour. 
It  is  God's,  it  is  the  command  of  Christ,  it  is  the  working 
out  of  the  heavenly  calling.  The  qualitative  difference 
of  work  is  done  away  with.  Simple  manual  labour, — and 
it  was  of  tbis  that  the  apostle  was  thinking  when  he  spoke 
of  work, — nay,  the  labour  of  the  slave,  is,  in  a  moral  point 


84  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  I. 

of  view,  just  as  valuable  as  that  of  the  loftiest  kind  and 
most  comprehensive  extent.  Everything  depends,  not  on 
what  a  man  does,  hut  on  how  he  does  it,  with  what 
motive,  and  in  what  spirit. 

The  result  of  labour  is  property.  "  Study  to  be  quiet 
and  to  do  your  own  work,"  is  said  1  Thess.  ix.  11,  and 
2  Thess.  iii.  10.  "If  any  will  not  work,  neither  let  him 
eat."  It  is  God's  moral  order,  that  the  possession  and 
enjoyment  of  earthly  goods  should  be  united  with  labour. 
Eespect  for  labour  involves  respect  for  property.  The 
two  are  inseparably  connected.  Respect  for  property 
perishes  with  respect  for  labour,  and  vice  versa.  Hence 
the  apostles  unreservedly  acknowledge  the  rights  of  pro- 
perty. Nowhere  can  we  find  a  trace  of  wealth  being 
considered  sinful,  or  as  springing  from  sin.  It  is  called 
uncertain  (1  Tim.  vi.  17),  and  a  Christian  is  enjoined  not 
to  be  proud  of  nor  to  trust  in  his  riches ;  and  they  tliat 
would  be  rich  are  warned  (1  Tim.  vi.  9),  because  so  many 
temptations  accompany  wealth,  but  its  possession  in  itself 
is  recognised.  St.  Paul  can  do  all  things  in  Christ,  can 
even  be  rich  and  have  abundance,  as  well  as  be  poor  and 
suffer  need ;  and  St.  John  does  not  command  the  rich  to 
throw  away  their  riches,  but  to  have  an  open^hand  for  a 
needy  brother.  It  is  not  the  riglits  of  property — not  even 
the  rights  of  a  property  exceeding  the  necessaries  of  life 
— that  are  disowned ;  it  is  only  the  selfishness  that 
accompanies  it  that  is  reproved.  Against  this,  too,  are 
directed  the  striking  words  in  which  St.  James  invokes  a 
woe  upon  the  selfish  rich  (ver.  1  sq.).  The  aim  of  labour 
is,  according  to  Epli.  iv.  18,  not  selfish  acquirement,  pos- 
session, and  enjoyment,  but  "  that  he  may  have  to  give  to 
him  that  needeth."  The  Christian  is  a  steward  of  earthly 
goods,  and  knowing  himseK  to  be  an  incorporated  member 


CHAP.  IV.]  FOUNDATIONS  AND  BEGINNINGS.  85 

with  others,  knows  also  that  it  is  his  duty  to  minister  to 
them  with  these  gifts  of  God. 

Hence  results,  on  the  one  hand  the  duty,  and  on  the  other 
the  liberty,  of  almsgiving."  No  one  ever  preached  more 
strikingly  the  duty  of  serving  one's  neighbour  in  love  than 
St.  Paul,  the  great  apostle  of  faith.  In  each  of  his  Epistles 
we  find  exhortations  to  this  effect.  But  never  did  any 
one  also  lay  such  stress  upon  perfect  freedom  in  giving  as 
he.  He  reminds  us  that  the  Lord  gave  Himself  for  us, 
that  for  our  sakes  He  became  poor  (2  Cor.  viii,  9).  He 
points  to  the  harvest  which  is  to  follow  the  sowing  (2  Cor. 
ix.  6),  and  urgently  exhorts  to  a  contribution  for  the  poor 
saints  in  Jerusalem  (2  Cor.  viii.  14).  But  nowhere  do 
we  find  a  word  which  is  even  like  a  law.  He  exhorts  to 
give  liberally,  he  praises  the  Christians  of  Macedonia,  who 
have  given  almost  beyond  their  power  (2  Cor.  viii.  2,  3), 
and  strives  to  excite  the  Corinthians  to  imitate  them. 
But  nowhere  is  there  even  a  hint  that  it  is  a  duty  to  give 
a  certain  proportion,  but  again  and  again  he  insists  that  it 
is  entirely  at  the  free  choice  of  the  individual  whether 
and  how  much  he  will  give.  "  Every  one  according  as  he 
purposeth  in  his  heart,  not  grudgingly  or  of  necessity,  for 
God  loveth  a  cheerful  giver"  (2  Cor.  ix.  7).  Such  is,  so 
to  speak,  the  Magna  Charta  of  free  charity.  Everything 
here  depends  on  readiness,  on  there  being  a  willing  mind 
(2  Cor.  viii.  11),  a  cheerful  giver,  on  showing  mercy  with 
cheerfulness  (Eom.  xii.  8).  To  these,  and  not  to  the  great- 
ness of  the  gift,  is  the  approbation  of  God  awarded.  The 
Macedonians  are  praised  because  they  gave  simply,  and 
therefore  abundantly  (1  Cor.  viii.  2).  Simplicity  gives 
abundantly  because  it  has  no  secondary  motives,  but  keeps 
straight  in  view  the  work  of  love  and  its  object.^  He  says 
of  them,    that    they    fii'st  gave  themselves  to   the  Lord 


86  CHKISTIAN  CIIAlllTY  IN  ANCIENT  CHUKCH.       [book  1. 

(2  Cor.  viii.  5) ;  and  in  saying  this,  tells  us  what  it  is  that 
gives  its  true  value  to  almsgiving,  viz.  that  it  should  not 
be  a  dead  offering  of  money,  a  merely  external  renuncia- 
tion of  a  portion  of  property,  but  a  self-devotion,  a  sacrifice 
of  selfish  interest.  The  object  of  giving  is  to  level  the 
difference  between  superfluity  and  want,  and  so  to  produce 
equality  (2  Cor.  viii.  14).  For  if  God  made  an  unequal  distri- 
bution of  earthly  goods,  and  allotted  to  one  superfluity,  to 
another  want,  it  was  not  His  purpose  that  this  should  con- 
tinue, but  in  His  plan  of  the  world  He  calculated  on  the 
equalization  to  be  effected  by  the  love  which  imparts  to  others, 
and  upon  that  end  prefigured  in  Scripture  by  the  gather- 
ing of  the  manna  being  thus  attained  :  "  He  that  gathered 
much  had  nothing  over,  and  he  that  gathered  little  had  no 
lack."  Nor  need  it  be  feared  that  the  difference  would 
thus  be  only,  so  to  speak,  shifted,  and  that  want  would 
now  arise  on  the  part  of  the  giver.  For  God,  who  minis- 
tereth  seed  to  the  sower,  will  also  minister  bread  to  those 
who  give  to  others,  and  cause,  them  to  have  all  sufficiency 
(2  Cor.  ix.  10,  8).  The  blessing  of  giving  is,  that  the  giver 
is  contented.  Contentment  is,  on  the  one  hand,  the  pre- 
supposition of  giving,  on  the  otlier  its  moral  result.  Giving 
makes  a  man  contented.  He  who  is  rich,  but  discon- 
tented, never  has  enough,  and  always  tliinks  he  neither 
can  nor  ought  to  give.  He  who  has  little,  but  is  con- 
tented, has  always  enough,  and  has  something  to  give,  and 
by  giving  becomes  increasingly  contented.  Herein  lies 
the  secret  why  the  poor  so  often  give  more  than  the  rich. 
The  history  of  charity  proves  in  innumerable  instances 
that  the  greatest  results  are  accomplished  when  many  small 
gifts  are  combined.  Hence  the  Apostle  Paul  attributes 
great  importance  to  small  gifts.  He  directs  the  Church 
to  lay  by  small  gifts  on  every  Sunday,  each  according 


CHAP.  IV.]  FOUNDATIONS  AND  BEGINNINGS. 


sK 


to  his  income,  especially  when  any  one  has  prospered  in 
business,  so  that  when  the  apostle  comes  to  fetch  the 
collection,  the  money  may  be  ready.  A  large  gift  is  at 
last  the  result  of  many  small  gifts.  Nowhere  is  the  power 
of  the  little  in  this  world  so  evidently  seen  as  in  charity. 
The  widows'  mites  have  always  effected  more  than  the 
bandfuls  of  money  of  the  rich.  It  is  not  where  the  rich 
give  with  liberal  hand,  but  where  many  small  gifts  com- 
bine, that  Charity  has  celebrated  her  greatest  triumphs. 
It  is  thus  chiefly  that  the  blessing  is  manifested  which 
was  expected  by  the  apostle  from  giving,  viz.  that  it 
should  become  a  bond  to  unite  hearts,  and  that  God  should 
be  glorified  by  all  (2  Cor.  ix.  12,  13). 

Lastly,  the  apostle  brings  forward  the  carefulness  with 
which  the  collection  is  managed.  He  does  not  deliver  it 
alone,  but  associates  with  himself  messengers  from  the 
churches,  to  avoid  any  blame  on  account  of  this  abundant 
collection  administered  by  him,  and  to  ensure  all  being 
honestly  done,  not  only  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord,  but  also 
in  the  sight  of  men  (2  Cor.  viii.  20,  21).  This,  too,  is 
connected  with  perfect  freedom  of  giving.  For  this  free- 
dom presupposes  confidence  in  him  who  collects  and 
administers  the  gifts.  Where  this  is  wanting,  gifts  will 
not  come  in;  nothing  but  confidence  can  attract  them  in 
rich  abundance. 

None  of  the  other  apostles,  indeed,  has  expressed  him- 
self so  amply  concerning  alms  and  deeds  of  cliarity,  though 
all  have  earnestly  exhorted  thereto.  How  does  St.  James 
fulminate  reproofs  against  the  selfish  rich,  who  nourish 
their  hearts  as  in  a  day  of  slaughter,  who  keep  back  the 
wages  of  their  labourers  !  How,  like  a  prophet  of  the  Old 
Testament,  does  he  set  before  tliem  the  approaching  judg- 
ment !     And  how,  on  the  other  hand,  does  he  insist  upon 


88  CHEISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  I. 

works  of  love,  without  wliich  faith  is  not  saving  faith  ! 
The  true  worship  of  God  is,  to  visit  the  widows  and  father- 
less in  their  affliction  (i.  27).  What  does  it  profit,  he 
says,  to  love  in  words  only  ?  Love  must  become  deed,  the 
deed  of  giving  to  one's  neighbour  what  he  needs  (ii.  14,  15). 
How  often,  too,  does  the  exhortation  to  exercise  love  recur 
in  the  writings  of  St.  Peter,  while  St.  John  declares  that 
he  who  does  not  love  his  neighbour  does  not  love  God, 
and  exhorts  to  openhandedness,  and  to  love,  not  in  words 
and  with  the  tongue,  but  in  deed  and  in  truth. 

We  do  not  possess  sufficient  information  to  enable  us 
to  give  a  detailed  account  of  charity  in  the  apostolic  age. 
We  have,  however,  enough  to  show  how  heartfelt  and  how 
abundant  was  the  love  that  then  prevailed.  We  should, 
indeed,  do  well  to  represent  it  as  simply  as  possible,  and 
not  to  conceive  of  complicated  institutions  or  of  anything 
under  rule  and  regulation.  As  offices  with  definite  spheres 
of  operation  originated  in  the  different  gifts  with  which 
Christians  were  endowed,  so  here,  too,  did  the  gift  of 
"helps"  still  predominate.  Voluntary  private  benevolence, 
which  helps  wherever  it  can,  and  is  combined  with  no 
office,  was  by  far  ^the  chief  point ;  nay,  the  smallness  of 
the  churches,  which  assembled  in  private  houses,  still 
caused  but  little  difference  to  be  found  between  private 
charity  and  that  of  the  Church.  There  certainly  was, 
however,  even  in  small  churches,  a  church  treasury,  sup- 
plied by  voluntary  gifts,  from  which  was  furnished  not 
only  what  was  necessary  for  the  maintenance  of  church 
officers,  so  far  as  these  could  not  maintain  themselves,  or 
of  travelling  evangelists  and  apostles,  but  also  means  for 
the  relief  of  the  poor.  Such  means  were  only  supplied 
when  a  member  of  the  church  was,  by  reason  of  age,  sick- 
ness, or  any  other  misfortune,  incapable  of  earning  his 


CHAP.  IV.]  FOUNDATIONS  AND  BEGINNINGS.  89 

bread.  Idlers,  who  walked  disorderly,  were,  according  to 
the  direction  of  the  apostle,  to  be  excluded  from  the 
church  (2  Thess.  iii.  6).  Such  exclusion  put  an  end  to 
all  regular  support.  Individuals  might  bestow  gifts  on  an 
excluded  person,  as  also  upon  a  heathen,  but  they  received 
nothing  from  the  church,  which  gave  no  assistance  to 
idlers.  It  was,  moreover,  assumed  that  relatives  would 
do  what  they  could.  They  were  not  to  abuse  the  assist- 
ance furnished  by  the  church,  for  the  purpose  of  escaping 
their  own  duty.  If  any  provide  not  for  his  own,  especially 
them  of  his  own  house,  he  hath  denied  the  faith,  and  is 
worse  than  an  infidel  (1  Tim.  v.  8).  It  is  self-evident 
that  the  assistance  given  was  restricted  to  the  necessaries 
of  life.  If  the  apostle  requires  contentment  from  all 
Christians,  if  they  have  food  and  raiment  (1  Tim.  vi.  8), 
much  more  would  this  be  required  of  the  poor. 

Assistance  was  also  rendered  to  tlie  poorer  members  of 
the  church  by  means  of  the  Agapce.  These  were  in  the 
church  at  Jerusalem  at  first  held  daily,  though  afterwards 
only  on  appointed  days,  probably  even  in  early  times  on 
the  first  day  of  the  week,  the  Sunday.  In  Troas,  at  least, 
we  find  the  church  assembled  on  Sunday  for  a  love-feast, 
while  from  1  Cor.  xi.  34  we  may  at  least  conclude  that 
the  members  of  the  church  had  their  regular  daily  meals 
in  their  own  houses.  The  members  of  the  church  brought 
with  them  both  food  and  drink  for  the  meal,  the  rich 
more,  the  poor  less  or  nothing.  The  provisions  were  then 
eaten  in  common  ;  the  celebration  of  the  Lord's  Supper 
followed,  on  which  account  the  apostle  (1  Cor.  xi.  20)  also 
calls  the  whole  meal  the  Lord's  Supper.  In  Corintli  and, 
as  it  appears,  in  other  places  also  (Jude  12),  all  kinds 
of  disorders  prevailed  at  the  love-feasts.  Instead  of  con- 
suming in  common  what  was  provided,  each  took  before- 


90  CHRISTIAN  CHAEITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  I. 

hand  what  he  had  himself  brought,  and  made  an  inde- 
pendent meal  instead  of  the  common  Lord's  Supper.  Thus 
the  poor  were  left  with  only  what  they  had  supplied,  and 
went  away  "  hungry  and  ashamed."  This  is  severely 
blamed  by  the  apostle,  who  enjoins  that  they  should  tarry 
for  one  another  and  then  partake  of  a  common  meal,  in 
which  one  should  not  have  superfluity  and  another 
scarcity,  but  that  the  superfluity  of  one  should  compensate 
for  what  was  lacking  to  another.  Thus  these  love-feasts 
became  a  bond  uniting  the  whole  church  without  distinc- 
tion, and  contributing  at  the  same  time  to  the  support  of 
the  poor,  and  the  more  so  that  the  fragments  that  remained 
were  undoubtedly  allotted  to  them. 

Widows  and  orphans  were  very  specially  received  among 
the  poor.  The  Old  Testament,  in  which  they  so  often 
appear  as  particularly  the  objects  of  the  Divine  protection, 
and  are  commended  to  the  special  care  of  the  pious, 
already  pointed  to  such  reception.  It  was  just  in  this 
point  that  the  regular  care  of  the  church  for  the  poor 
showed  itself  most  active.  That  a  certain  number  of 
widows  occupied  an  honourable  position  in  the  church  has 
been  already  mentioned  ;  but  1  Tim.  v.  o  sqq.  shows  that 
even  those  who,  because  they  were  too  young,  or  for  other 
reasons,  were  not  admitted  to  the  list  of  these  widows, 
were  supported.  Testimony  was  required  concerning  those 
to  be  admitted  to  the  honourable  position  of  widows,  that 
they  had  brought  up  children,  meaning  certainly  not  merely 
their  own,  but  more  especially  other  and  orphan  children. 
This  shows  both  that  private  people  received  children  not 
their  own  into  their  families,  for  this  was  required  of  a 
widow  before  she  was  placed  on  the  list  of  widows,  and  also 
that  on  the  part  of  the  church  care  was  taken  for  the  bring- 
ing up  of  orphans ;  for  the  fact  that  just  this  good  work  is 


CHAP,  rv.]  FOUNDATIONS  AND  BEGINNINGS.  91 

brought  forward,  points  out  that  it  belonged  to  the  office 
of  these  honoured  widows  to  bring  up  the  orphans  pro- 
vided for  by  the  church.  If  tlie  Lord  Himself  had  bidden 
the  children  to  come  to  Him,  taken  them  up  in  His  arms 
and  blessed  them,  what  could  His  Church  do  but  interest 
itself  in  them  ?  If  the  Lord  Himself  had  been  a  child, 
and  as  a  child  lain  in  a  manger,  childhood  must  be  a 
sacred  thing  to  His  people. 

The  entertainment  of  strangers  is  very  frequently 
spoken  of.  It  is  required  of  a  widow  that  she  have 
washed  the  saints'  feet  (1  Tim.  v.  10),  and  very  often  do 
the  apostles  exhort  to  hospitality.  Be  given  to  hospitality, 
says  St.  Paul  (Eom.  xii.  13).  Use  hospitality  without 
grudging,  says  St.  Peter  (1  Pet.  iv.  9) ;  nay,  the  writer  of 
the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  recalls  that  great  reward  of 
hospitality,  that  some  have  entertained  angels  unawares 
■  (xiii.  2).  To  Gains  it  is  said  with  especial  praise,  in  the 
Third  Epistle  of  St.  John,  that  he  dealt  faithfully  with  the 
brethren  and  strangers,  and  set  them  forward  on  their 
journey  in  a  manner  worthy  before  God ;  while,  on  the 
contrary,  Diotrephes  is  spoken  of  with  special  reproach, 
because  he  neglected  these  duties.  It  is  quite  natural 
that  so  much  stress  was  laid  upon  just  this  work  of  love. 
The  church  still  bore  its  missionary  character  ;  every 
member  regarded  it  as  his  duty  to  propagate  the  gospel, 
and  to  gain  more  believers  for  the  Lord.  All  were  still 
under  the  Lord's  command  :  Go  ye  into  all  the  world  and 
teach  all  nations.  Hence  it  cannot  astonish  us  to  find  a 
more  than  usual  movement  among  the  Christians  of  the 
earliest  times.  Not  only  apostles,  but  other  Christians 
also,  went  from  place  to  place  to  labour  for  the  Lord. 
Thus  we  meet  with  Aquila  and  Priscilla  first  at  Corinth, 
whither  they  have  come  from  liome,  then  at  Ephesus, 


92  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [boOK  I. 

and  then  again  in  Eome.  We  find  ApoUos  at  Ephesus, 
at  Corinth,  and  then  in  Crete.  There  was  a  continual 
going  and  coming  of  the  brethren.  If  we  add  to  this  the 
sharp  severance  of  the  Christians  from  the  heathen  who 
were  here  and  there  already  of  hostile  mind,  we  shall 
understand  why  hospitality  was  so  commended,  and  why 
it  was  exercised  to  so  great  an  extent.  The  brother  who 
was  travelling  was  not  only  received  into  the  house  and 
provided  for ;  he  was  also  furnished  for  his  further  journey 
(Tit.  iii.  13),  accompanied  some  distance  on  his  road,  and 
then  taken  leave  of  with  prayer.  And  not  merely  did 
individual  Christians  exercise  this  hospitality,  but  the 
church  too,  as  such,  took  care,  by  means  of  its  rulers,  for 
strangers  and  guests.  Hence,  among  the  qualities  required 
of  a  bishop  is,  that  he  should  be  given  to  hospitality 
(1  Tim.  iii.  2)  ;  and  hence  tlie  apostle  directs  Titus  to 
furnish  Zenas  and  Apollos  for  their  journey,  that  nothing 
be  wanting  to  them,  for  which  purpose  the  members  of 
the  church  are  to  render  their  assistance  (Tit.  iii.  14). 
Wherever  a  Christian  came,  if  he  found  a  church,  he  found 
a  family,  who  received  him  as  a  member.  We  learn  this 
from  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles,  and  the  salutations  and 
thanksgivings  of  the  Epistles  furnish  a  further  proof. 
Indeed,  the  greatness  of  the  age  consisted  in  this  very 
feature,  that  Christians  of  all  places  knew  themselves  to 
be  fraternally  one,  and  that  in  this  oneness  all  differences 
disappeared. 

Even  that  most  deeply  rooted  social  distinction  of  the 
ancient  world,  the  distinction  between  bond  and  free,  dis- 
appeared and  became  unimportant.  The  relation  of  the 
Church  and  of  Christianity  to  slavery  is  viewed  erro- 
neously, when  the  former — as  is  frequently  the  case — is 
regarded  as  labouring  from  the  very  first  with  full  con- 


CHAP.  IV.]  FOUNDATIONS  AND  BEGINNINGS.  93 

sciousness  for  the  abolition  of  slavery.  On  the  contrary, 
the  position  taken  up  by  the  church  towards  slavery  was 
at  first  an  entirely  neutral  one.  In  its  sphere  the  contrast 
between  the  free  man  and  the  slave  is,  like  every  other 
contrast,  done  away  with.  Here  there  is  no  more  master 
and  slave,  than  there  is  Greek  and  barbarian,  rich  and 
poor,  male  and  female ;  all  are  one  in  Christ,  and  bondage 
is  no  more  a  hindrance  than  freedom  is  a  requisite  for 
admission  into  the  kingdom  of  God.  The  slave  has  just 
as  much  a  share  in  it  as  the  free  man.  If  the  free  man 
is  Christ's  bond  servant,  the  slave  is  the  Lord's  free  man. 
In  the  sphere  of  the  external,  however,  in  civil  and  social 
life,  the  church  did  not  think  of  abolishing  these  contrasts. 
The  master  remained  a  master,  the  slave  remained  a  slave. 
The  result  of  the  obliteration  of  the  contrast  in  the  king- 
dom  of  God  was  not  the  external  emancipation  of  the 
slaves,  but  only  that  the  Christian  slave  served  his  master 
more  faithfully  and  conscientiously,  and  that  the  Christian 
master  treated  his  slave  with  kindness  and  gentleness  as 
a  brother  in  Christ.  There  is  not  in  the  New  Testament 
a  trace  of  the  emancipation  of  slaves,  not  even  1  Cor. 
vii  21,  where  the  apostle,  on  the  contrary,  advises  the 
slave,  instead  of  caring  for  freedom,  rather  to  make  good 
use  of  his  calling  as  a  slave.^  Neither  can  I  read  in  the 
Epistle  to  Philemon,  that  St.  Paul  entreats  for  the  liberty 
of  Onesimus.  Such  thoughts  were  far  from  the  minds  of 
the  early  Christians,  if  it  were  only  because  they  lived  in 
the  hope  of  the  Lord's  speedy  return,  which  threw  quite 
into  the  background  the  span  of  time  stiU  separating  them 
from  the  longed-for  consummation  of  the  kingdom  of  God. 
To  prepare  for  and  expect  that  great  day  of  Chiist's 
appearing  claimed  all  their  care,  and  this  was  as  much  in 
the  power  of  the  slave  as  of  the  free.     Of  what  use  then 


94  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.        [book  I. 

would  freedom  be  to  him  ?  Looking  to  a  higher  aim,  to 
the  freedom  which  Christ  brings,  he  did  better  to  remain 
for  this  short  time  a  slave. 

On  the  whole,  this  hope  of  Christ's  speedy  return,  which 
was  the  ruling  power  of  the  entire  sphere  of  Christian 
life,  was  so  also  of  charity.  Arrangements  were  not  made 
in  view  of  a  long  continuance  on  earth.  The  time  is 
short ;  and  if  this  fact  urged  on  the  one  hand  to  employ  it 
profitably  in  abundant  well-doing  (Gal.  vi.  9),  still,  not 
the  future,  but  only  the  present  was  its  aim.  In  prospect 
of  the  end,  when  all  misery,  all  need  will  cease.  Christians 
helped  each  other  as  much  as  they  could,  shared  what 
they  had  with  each  other  in  brotherly  association,  and 
were  content  and  patient  in  hope  of  the  day  which 
would  bring  eternal  joy.  And  thus,  without  many  special 
institutions  or  need  of  elaborate  arrangements,  the  end 
■vt'as  attained,  that  in  the  Christian  Church  none  suffered 
want.  Nay,  these  poor  churches  were  thus  able  to  stretch 
out  a  helping  hand  beyond  their  own  immediate  circle. 
For  when  famine  was  imminent  at  Jerusalem,  the 
Christians  of  Antioch  sent  relief  (Acts  xi.  29),  and  St. 
Paul  gathered  in  the  Gentile  churches  a  large  collection, 
whose  proceeds  exceeded  even  his  expectations,  and  came 
with  it,  in  fulfilment  of  a  promise  he  had  made  (Gal.  ii. 
1 0),  for  the  relief  of  the  poor  saints  at  Jerusalem.  Love 
proved  itself  to  be  a  powerful  bond  uniting  the  Gentile 
churches  with  the  Jewish  mother  church  at  Jerusalem, 
and  with  each  other.  Nay,  even  the  heathen  experienced 
this  love.  For  if  it  was  a  rule  to  do  good,  specially  to 
fellow-believers  (Gal.  vi.  10),  this  love  was  still  large- 
hearted  enough  to  prove  itself  to  be  love  to  all  men,  and 
to  show  to  the  heathen  what  a  new  spirit — a  spirit  un- 
known to  the  ancient  world — here  prevailed. 


CHAP.  IV.]  FOUNDATIONS  AND  BEGINNINGS.  95 

This  state  of  things  could  not  continue.  It  was  the 
spring-time,  which,  like  every  earthly  spring,  passed  away. 
It  was  the  time  of  childhood,  which  with  its  glow  and 
brightness  disappears.  It  is  a  mistake  to  look  upon  the 
apostolic  age  as  in  such  wise  a  model  for  after  ages,  as  to 
make  its  institutions  always  a  standard.  It  is  only  the 
disposition  then  prevailing  that  furnishes  a  standard.  As 
for  institutions,  it  is  only  their  foundation  that  was  laid,  and 
upon  this  future  ages  have  to  build.  The  Church  has  to 
live  its  life  in  the  world,  to  perform  its  tasks  in  the  world. 
And  this  cannot  be  done  without  the  sin  that  is  in  the 
world  working  too,  and  bringing  forth  its  obscuring  effects. 
Even  the  history  of  charity  exhibits  such  obscurations. 
Already  in  the  New  Testament  itself  we  hear  the  reproof : 
I  have  this  against  thee,  that  thou  hast  left  thy  first  love 
(Eev.  ii.  4).  Still  the  image  of  the  primitive  church, 
which  we  take  with  us,  gives  us  the  certainty  that  there 
is  in  it  a  something  new,  which  the  ancient  world  never 
knew,  that  the  love  of  Christ  is  implanted  in  His  Church; 
and  herein  we  have  a  pledge,  that  although  this  new  life 
of  love  may  be  temporarily  obscured,  it  can  yet  never  dis- 
appear. The  Church  of  Christ  never  can  and  never  will 
be  without  the  exercise  of  love  and  mercy.  The  sun  has 
risen,  and  will  always  triumphantly  break  through  every 
cloud  that  obscures  it 


BOOK    SECOND. 


THE  AGE  OF  CONFLICT. 


CHAPTEE  I. 

POVERTY  AND  DISTRESS. 

There  was  poverty  and  distress  enough  in  the  mighty 
Eoman  Empire.  Whether  there  was  more  than  among 
ourselves  is  a  question  difficult  to  answer.  For,  apart 
from  the  fact  that  the  information  extant  does  not  suffice 
to  furnish  even  an  approximate  statistic  of  poverty,  tlie 
circumstances  of  the  times  were  so  fundamentally  different 
from  those  of  the  present  day,  that  a  comparison  would 
only  lead  to  very  erroneous  results.  Thus  much  may, 
however,  he  said,  that  a  pau;>«rism  such  as  we  see  accom- 
panying our  present  state  ot  civilisation  did  not  exist,  at 
least  in  the  first  centuries  of  the  Church. 

In  Eome  itself,  indeed,  the  Proletariat  was  more  nume- 
rous than  in  any  one  of  our  modern  cities.  If  we  may 
regard  the  320,000  of  the  male  population  of  the  city 
(the  j)lebs  urhana),  to  whom  Augustus  presented  a  bounty 
of  60  den.  each  (almost  50s.),  as  being  nearly  all  persons 
who  could  not  live  without  relief,  we  get — even  supposing 
boys  to  be  included  in  this  number,  and  therefore  adding 
only  a  due  proportion  of  females  to  the  plebs — about 
580,000  of  the  class  needing  support,  to  10,000  senators 
and  knights,  i.e.  persons  possessed  of  property.  If  then 
we  add  to  these  (not  reckoning  slaves)  about  20,000 
soldiers,  and  60,000  foreigners  living  by  trade  and  com- 
merce, as  persons  possessed  of  a  competency,  we  have 

99 


100  CHRISTIAN  CHAKITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [boOK  IT. 

90,000  not  needing  support  to  580,000  Proletarians,  i.e 
a  proportion  of  one  to  six  and  a  lialf,  a  proportion  very  far 
above  that  existing  in  any  modern  city/  In  Paris,  which 
may  best  be  compared  with  Kome,  there  were  in  the 
■winter  of  1879-80  but  130,000  registered  paupers.  And 
this,  too,  was  Eome,  the  capital  of  the  world,  which  was 
privileged  to  be  maintained  by  the  rest  of  the  Empire. 
We  must  indeed  beware  of  judging  by  the  utterly  excep- 
tional circumstances  of  Rome  those  of  the  whole  Empire, 
a  mistake  often  committed,  for  the  simple  reason  that  we 
know  most  about  Rome.  Things  were  very  different  in  the 
provinces;  and  even  large  cities  like  Alexandria  and  Antioch, 
much  as  they  strove  to  be  miniature  copies  of  Rome,  undoubt- 
edly exhibited  more  favourable  proportions.  Chrysostom,  at 
a  time  when  poverty  had  considerably  increased,  reckons 
one-tenth  rich  and  one-tenth  poor  to  eight-tenths  between 
these  two  classes.^  On  the  whole,  the  first  ages  of  the 
imperial  epoch,  down  to  the  times  of  the  Antonines,  under 
whose  government  declension  was  already  apparent,  are 
among  the  most  prosperous  periods  not  only  of  Roman, 
but  of  universal  history.  After  the  storms  of  the  civil 
war,  the  provinces  enjoyed  a  lasting  peace.  The  con- 
tests carried  on  on  the  borders  did  not  affect  the  lands  of 
the  Mediterranean  coasts ;  the  arbitrary  government  and 
domestic  disorders  of  the  later  emperors  of  the  Julian  house 
were  felt  chiefly  at  Rome.  Many  inscriptions  testify  that 
the  provincials  were  contented,  even  under  the  sway  of 
emperors,  whose  images,  like  that  of  Nero,  appear  to  us 
in  the  darkest  colours.  The  government  was  systematic, 
the  administration  of  justice  in  civil  cases  was  uniform, 
such  exhaustion  of  the  provinces  as  prevailed  in  the  later 
days  of  the  republic  no  longer  took  place,  at  least  not  in 
like  proportions.    Taxation  was  moderate,  and  on  the  whole 


CHAP.  I.]  POVERTY  AND  DISTRESS.  101 

justly  distributed.  The  direct  taxes  were  received  at  the 
imperial  treasury ;  the  indirect  taxes  were  still  indeed 
farmed,  and  under  this  system  the  over-assessment  of  the 
taxpayers  could  not  be  entirely  avoided,  though  even  bad 
emperors  strove  to  lower  it.  The  rates  of  taxation  were 
set  up  for  public  inspection,  and  facilities  were  everywhere 
afforded  to  provincials  to  prosecute  legally  for  any  injustice 
done  them  in  this  respect.  Trade  and  commerce  flourished. 
A  network  of  artificial  roads,  kept  in  excellent  repair, 
traversed  the  Empire;  the  sea  was  now  free  from  pirates, 
and  the  government  devoted  great  attention  to  harbours, 
canals,  and  river  navigation.  The  standard  of  gold  intro- 
duced by  the  emperors  failed,  indeed,  to  effect  perfect  unity 
of  coinage,  but  it  created  a  coinage  willingly  accepted 
throughout  the  Empire.  An  intercourse  and  exchange  of 
produce  between  the  wealthy  Mediterranean  countries,  such 
as  the  world  had  not  yet  seen,  was  developed.  15esides 
Alexandria,  Antioch  and  Carthage,  Kome  was  especially 
the  great  mart  for  the  wares  of  both  East  and  West. 
Enormous  treasures  flowed  into  Rome,  and  the  provinces 
were  still  taxed  in  her  behalf;  but  money  was  always 
flowing  back  again  from  Eome  to  the  provinces,  and  the 
luxury  practised  in  the  capital,  repulsive  as  may  be  the 
form  it  often  assumed,  contributed  to  the  promotion  of 
trade  and  commerce.  Even  if  the  industry  cannot  be 
compared  with  that  of  modern  times,  it  was  nevertlieless 
highly  developed,  skilled  handicraft  especially  having  at- 
tained a  perfection  never  before  witnessed.  Agriculture 
and  cattle-rearing  were  carried  on  in  a  rational  manner, 
and  their  results  far  surpassed,  both  in  quantity  and  quality, 
those  of  former  times.  The  cultivation  of  fruit,  vegetables 
and  the  vine  Avere  scarcely  behind  that  of  our  own  days. 
Pliny's  Epistles,  which  give  us  a  glimpse  into  life  in  the 


102  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  II. 

countiy  and  towns  of  Upper  Italy,  exhibit  throughout 
well-ordered  conditions,  in  which  poverty,  to  any  large 
amount,  could  not  occur.  This  is  also  the  case  through- 
out the  whole  East,  where  trade  especially  flourished,  and 
where  the  contempt  for  labour,  found  in  Eome,  never 
prevailed.  Even  beyond  Eome  care  was  taken  by  the 
authorities  for  the  regular  importation  of  corn,  for  the  due 
supply  of  the  markets  and  the  suitableness  of  the  prices 
charged  for  provisions.  Hardly  any  other  government 
ever  did  so  much  as  the  Roman  for  this  branch  of  ad- 
ministration ;  and  whenever  a  town  or  district  was  visited 
by  any  special  calamity,  such  as  earthquake,  conflagration, 
or  temporary  famine,  even  bad  emperors  showed  them- 
selves ready  to  send  relief. 

Nor  must  we  lose  sight  of  the  fact,  that  circumstances, 
in  many  respects  so  entirely  differing  from  our  own,  pre- 
vented the  occurrence  of  such  distress  as  we  are  acquainted 
■with.  Even  the  difference  of  climate  is  an  important 
one.  The  countries  lying  round  the  Mediterranean  Sea 
have  all  a  milder  climate,  in  which  the  struggle  for  exist- 
ence is  more  easy  to  wage.  Whether  the  necessaries  of 
life  were  more  reasonable  in  price  than  at  present,  is 
difficult  to  determine  ;  but  at  all  events,  the  wants  of  the 
inhabitants  of  the  South  were  less,  and  this  alone  would 
make  living  cheaper.  In  Eome  everything  was  of  course 
dearer,  especially,  as  is  always  the  case  in  large  cities, 
rent.  A  modest  dwelling  in  the  upper  stories  of  one  of 
the  large  lodging-houses  came  to  about  £16.^  Many 
possessed  only  a  sleeping-place,  or  wandered  about  in  the 
taverns,  or  in  the  worst  case  spent  the  night  in  some 
portico.*  On  the  1st  July,  the  day  for  change  of  lodgings, 
many  poor  families,  driven  from  their  dwelling,  might  be 
seen  wandering  in  the  streets,  because  they  were  unable  to 


CHAP.  I.]  POVERTY  AND  DISTRESS.  103 

pay  their  rent.  Martial  describes  such  a  departure.^  A 
man,  emaciated  by  hunger  and  cold,  and  some  women, 
are  dragging  a  three-legged  bedstead,  a  table  with  two 
legs  and  other  old  lumber,  broken  earthenware,  a  pot 
smelling  of  bad  fish.  This  looks  like  what  occurs  in  our 
days.  In  the  provinces,  however,  living  was  cheaper. 
The  times,  indeed,  in  which,  as  Polybius  relates,"  a  medim- 
nus  of  wheat  (about  1^  bushels)  was  worth  4  oboli=:  6^d., 
and  board  could  be  had  in  taverns  for  lialf  an  as,  i.e.  a 
little  above  half  a  farthing  per  day,  were  indeed  past.  The 
imperial  epoch  exhibits  a  great  rise  of  prices.  But  still 
these  bore  a  not  unfavourable  proportion  to  wages. 
Mommsen  reckons  the  Eoman  bushel  of  wlieat  in  the 
early  days  of  the  Empire  at  1  denarius ;  and  this  was,  as 
the  parable  of  the  vineyard  labourers  also  shows,  the 
usual  day's  wage.  Now,  the  week's  ration  of  an  adult 
would  amount  to  about  five  bushels,  consequently  this 
quantity  could  be  procured  for  five  days'  wages.  An  in- 
scription of  the  imperial  age  shows  that  a  traveller  paid 
at  a  tavern  1  as  (^  of  a  farthing)  for  bread,  and  2  ases  for 
other  food.^  The  two  denarii,  which  the  good  Samaritan 
left  with  the  host,  were  therefore  an  ample  provision. 
Meat  was  proportionally  dear.  According  to  the  famous 
inscription  of  Stratonice,  Diocletian  settled  the  price  of  beef 
and  mutton  at  Is.  2|d.  the  kilogram,  pork  at  about  2s.  1 0|d.; 
a  fowl  cost  Is.  2§d.  But  the  lower  classes  ate  little  or 
no  meat,  which  was  regarded  as  a  luxury.  An  edict  of 
Nero  expressly  forbids  the  sale  of  meat  in  cooks'  shops ; 
they  are  only  allowed  to  offer  for  sale  cabbage  and  shell- 
fruits,^  a  restriction  which  could  only  be  carried  out 
among  a  southern  people. 

The  inequality  of   property  was  indeed    considerable, 
still  it  was  not  as  great  as    at   present.®     The   largest 


104         CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  II. 

property  mentioned  during  the  imperial  epoch  does  not 
reach  £4,500,000.  The  augur  Cn.  Lentulus  and  Nar- 
cissus, the  freed  man  of  Nero,  are  said  to  have  possessed 
this  amount.  When  it  is  considered,  that  such  property 
could  in  those  times  be  scarcely  otherwise  invested  than 
in  estates,  and  yielded  in  this  manner  at  most  4  per  cent., 
the  result  woidd  be  an  annual  income  of  £180,000.  And 
what  is  this  compared  with  property  to-day  ?  The 
property  of  the  Eothschild  family  amounted  in  1875  to 
£200,000,000,  and  doubled  itself  every  fifteen  years. 
The  consciousness  of  the  equality  of  all  citizens,  a  survival 
of  the  republic  still  operative,  considerably  mitigated  the 
inequality  of  property.  Conscious  of  this  equality,  the 
people  expected  from  the  rich  an  equalization  of  property 
by  means  of  gifts  and  the  application  of  wealth  to  the 
public  good ;  and  such  equalization  was,  as  we  have  seen, 
extensively  practised.  "  If  he  has  inherited  millions  of 
sestertii,  he  can  well  spend  400,000!"  exclaim  the  fellow- 
citizens  of  Trimalchio  in  Petronius,^'*  and  this  feature  of 
the  satire  is  certainly  taken  from  life.  An  industry  like 
ours,  now  the  source  of  so  much  distress,  was  unknown  to 
the  ancient  world.  Equally  so  was  such  a  system  '  of 
credit  as  ours,  trade  being  everywhere  carried  on  for  ready 
money.  Property  was  not  so  fluctuating,  and  though  it 
became  increasingly  so,  the  fluctuation  of  the  present  day 
was  not  even  approximated.  Great  possessions  for  the 
most  part  assumed  the  form  of  extensive  land-owning,  and 
pernicious  as  was  the  effect  of  the  latifundia,  still  this 
form  of  capital  was  less  oppressive  to  the  classes  without 
property  than  that  which  now  prevails. 

All  this  considered,  we  may  well  declare,  that  in  the 
earlier  ages  of  the  Church,  there  was  no  pauperism  of  the 
masses  except  in  liome  j  and  there,  imperial  liberality  took 


CHAP.  I.]  POVERTY  AND  DISTKESS.  105 

care  that  every  citizen  should  be  fed,  however  poorly. 
Independently  of  great  calamities  and  times  of  famine, 
distress  was  confined  to  cases  of  individual  poverty.  How 
helpful  it  was  to  the  Church,  that  its  beginnings  and  the 
beginnings  of  its  charity  took  place  at  a  period  so  favour- 
able in  a  financial  point  of  view,  need  not  be  further 
detailed.  Its  duty  was  thereby  essentially  facilitated.  In 
presence  of  a  poverty  thus  confined  to  individual  cases, 
its  almsgiving  could  also  be  of  a  strongly  individual 
character ;  while  the  pauperism  of  masses  always  impresses 
upon  almsgiving  also  a  wholesale  character,  and  malces 
an  individual  treatment  of  special  cases  difficult,  if  not 
impossible.  The  Church  had  time  to  strengthen  in  all 
directions,  that,  when  the  system  of  the  Eoman  Empire 
fell  into  decay,  and  a  hitherto  unknown  pauperism  of  the 
masses  was  the  result,  it  might  prove  equal  to  the  greater 
task  imposed  on  it. 

For  the  Eoman  Empire  was  evidently  on  the  road  to  a 
universal  impoverishment,  the  first  traces  of  which  may 
be  perceived  even  under  the  emperors  of  tlie  Flavian 
house.  Under  the  Antonines  they  are  still  more  plainly 
visible,  in  connection  indeed  with  the  great  calamities 
then  experienced  by  the  Empire,  the  sanguinary  wars  in 
East  and  West,  the  bad  harvests  and  pestilences.  The 
increasing  oppressiveness  of  taxation,  the  constant  in- 
troduction of  new  objects  of  taxation,  are,  as  well  as  the 
remission  of  taxes,  symptoms  that  impoverishment  was 
setting  in.  When,  e.g.,  the  Emperor  Hadrian  remitted 
£6,750,000  arrears  of  tribute,  which  had  accumulated 
during  sixteen  years,  this  was  a  sign  of  the  great  difficulty 
experienced  in  the  collection  of  taxes.  For  each  year 
X425,000  had  been  uncollected.  We  do  not  indeed 
know  the  amount  of  this  tribute,  but  the  deficiency  was 


106         CHRISTIAN  CITAPJTY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [bOOK  II. 

in  any  case  disproportionately  great.  In  Prussia,  in  the 
year  1863,  the  deficiency  of  taxes  was  only  003  per 
cent.  A  still  more  evident  symptom  is  presented  in  the 
fact,  that  estates  had  now  very  frequently  to  be  sold  to 
raise  money  for  the  arrears  of  the  land-tax.  Already,  in 
the  reign  of  Caracalla,  a  law  was  enacted  to  this  effect. 
From  a  similar  law  of  Aurelian,  it  appears  that  such 
estates  often  found  no  purchasers,  because  none  was  will- 
ing to  bear  the  burdens  laid  upon  them.  It  was  there- 
fore enacted  by  the  emperor,  that  the  Decurions  shonld 
take  the  land  and  pay  up  the  arrears.  This,  however,  not 
answering,  it  was  appointed  that  all  unsold  land  should 
be  divided  jpro  rata  among  such  neighbouring  proprietors 
as  were  capable  of  paying  taxes.^^  Another  suspicious 
symptom  was  the  decrease  of  the  population,  not  oidy  in 
numbers,  but  also  in  physical  strength.  A  great  increase 
of  population,  such  as  is  now  met  with,  was  unknown  to 
the  old  world.  Several  causes  combined  to  prevent  it. 
Such  were,  the  want  of  esteem  for  infant  life,  resulting  in 
an  entirely  disproportionate  amount  of  infant  mortality, 
the  exposing  of  children,  which  was  nowhere  regarded  as  a 
crime,  the  widespread  and  increasingly  known  hereditary 
sins.  The  laws  which  imposed  special  taxes  on  the 
unmarried  and  childless,  and  promised  rewards  to  the 
married  and  those  who  had  many  children,  were  of  no 
avail.  After  the  third  century,  the  numbers  and  strength 
of  the  population  everywhere  decreased.  What  legions 
had  not  Italy  formerly  sent  forth  !  Pliny  already  wonders 
how  it  could  have  been  possible.  All  Greece  could  not 
supply  more  soldiers  than  were  furnished  by  the  one  city 
of  Platea  in  the  times  of  its  prosperity.  Even  so  early 
as  the  reign  of  Nero,  the  interior  of  Sicily  was  almost 
depopulated. 


CHAP.  I.]  POVERTY  AND  DISTRESS.  107 

The  deepest  reason  for  this  impoverishment  is  to  be 
found  in  the  prevailing  contempt  for  labour.  No  people 
can  attain  to  lasting  prosperity  among  whom  labour  is 
not  held  in  honour.  But  an  Athenian  or  Eoman  had  a 
right,  and  it  was  even  in  a  certain  sense  his  duty  to  be 
idle — a  right,  for  he  was  a  member  of  the  ruling  people, 
and  as  such  had  a  share  of  the  spoils  of  war,  which  in  the 
old  world  were  a  special  and  chief  source  of  the  public 
property — his  duty,  for  the  State  made  claims  upon  his 
activity.  He  had  to  be  present  in  public  assemblies,  in 
the  Comitia  to  vote,  and  in  courts  of  justice  to  act  as 
juryman.  In  Athens  a  third  of  the  citizens  sat  daily  in 
court.  Hence  a  trade  or  business  could  not  be  regularly 
carried  on.  For  such  attendance  a  citizen  received  in 
Athens  his  judicial  fee,  his  theatre-money,  in  liome,  his 
corn-money  and  congiaria.  Thus  the  free  man  grew  un- 
accustomed to  work,  and  let  himself  be  maintained  by  the 
State.  As  for  work,  there  were  slaves  to  do  it.  It  is  the 
curse  of  slavery  that  it  makes  free  labour  a  disgrace. 
Besides,  slave  labour  is  far  more  costly.  It  was  computed 
that  in  Eome  a  slave  performed  only  half  the  work  of  a 
free  man.  Nevertheless,  free  labour  cannot  hold  its  own 
against  slave  labour.  It  is  supplanted,  and  the  worst 
injury  done  by  slavery  is  the  ruin  of  the  middle  classes. 
This  was  the  case  in  Athens,  where  the  once  vigorous 
class  of  artisans  could  not  compete  with  the  factories  in 
which  the  work  was  done  by  slaves ;  and  in  a  still  higher 
degree  in  Eome.  The  class  of  small  landowners,  who 
formed  the  strength  of  Italy  in  earlier  times,  gradually 
disappeared,  being  supplanted  by  the  large  estates  of  the 
Eoman  nobles.  In  the  place  of  farms  and  villages  ap- 
"  peared  the  Ergastula,  the  slave  prisons,  with  their  hundreds 
of   slaves.     An   administrator  with   slaves   divided   into 


108  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [boOK  II. 

decnries  and  centuries,  working  by  day  with  fetters  on 
their  feet,  and  sleeping  at  night  huddled  together  in  slave 
prisons,  ruled,  where  formerly  free  peasants  had  tilled 
their  own  fields.  If  the  estates  were  too  distant  to  be 
safely  cultivated  by  slaves,  they  were,  indeed,  let,  but 
under  oppressive  conditions.  The  tenant  was  obliged  to 
deliver  up  the  whole  produce,  and  received  only  a  fifth, 
or  even  only  a  ninth,  for  himself.  Under  such  circum- 
stances a  well-to-do  class  of  tenants  would  not,  of  course, 
arise.  It  was  but  natural  that,  as  plantain  farming  in- 
creased, the  cultivation  of  corn  should  entirely  cease  on 
large  estates,  and  be  superseded  by  pasturage.  Larger 
and  safer  profits  were  thereby  obtained,  because  fewer 
slaves  were  needed  ;  and  these,  now  that  the  great  foreign 
wars  of  conquest  had  come  to  an  end,  began  to  be  expen- 
sive. Slavery  produced  similar  effects  in  the  sphere  of 
industrial  activity.  The  great  estate  owners,  with  their 
herds  of  slaves,  not  only  produced  the  raw  material,  but 
also  carried  on  its  manufacture  by  their  means.  Nay,  they 
even  entrusted  the  sale  of,  and  traffic  in  these  manufac- 
tured articles  to  slaves,  who  received  a  certain  rate  upon 
them;  and  thus  slaves  often  acquired  property.  It  not 
iinfrequently  happened  that  slaves  carried  on  some  branch 
of  trade  at  the  expense  of  their  masters  for  a  certain 
share  in  the  profits,  or  that  a  master  set  his  slaves  at 
liberty  upon  condition  of  their  paying  him  a  certain  pro- 
portion of  their  gains  in  business.  Thus  did  Callistus, 
the  subsequent  Bishop  of  Eome,  carry  on  for  his  master, 
Carpophorus,  a  banking  business.'^  In  the  towns  there 
were  edifices,  etc.,  for  the  greater  undertakings,  and  per- 
sons who  carried  these  on  by  means  of  their  slaves,  while 
in  the  houses  of  the  Eoman  nobles  the  productions  of 
handicraft  were  also  the  work  of  slaves ;  and  thus  the 


CHAP.  I.]  POVERTY  AND  DISTRESS.  "  109 

free  artisan  could  only  obtain  the  custom  of  those  of 
lower  rank.  The  free  workman  could  not  resist  such  a 
development  of  slave  labour.  He  was  often  worse  off 
than  the  slave.  For  the  latter  was  taken  care  of  by  his 
master  from  selfishness,  for  the  sake  of  the  capital  in- 
vested in  him.  "  If  I  were  free,"  says  a  slave  in  Plautus 
to  his  master,  "  I  should  live  at  my  own  risk,  I  now  do 
so  at  yours." 

If  the  supplanting  of  the  middle  class  as  a  result  of 
slavery  enlarged  the  chasm  between  rich  and  poor,  the 
perfect  economic  liberty  which  existed  conciined  in  pro- 
ducing the  same  effect.  The  imperial  epocli  d(5wn  to 
Diocletian  was  a  time  of  free  trade  in  the  widest  sense 
of  the  word.  There  were,  indeed,  customs,  excise,  har- 
bour rates,  but  these  did  not  exceed  the  limits  of  moderate 
exchequer  dues.  There  was  freedom  of  transit  through- 
out the  Empire,  for  every  freeman  could  travel  and  sojourn 
wherever  he  would ;  there  was  freedom  of  trade,  for 
every  one  might  seek  profit  by  his  own  means,  where  and 
how  he  thought  he  could  most  advantageously  find  it. 
There  was  no  kind  of  organization  of  labour.  The  con- 
sequences of  this  were  the  same  as  they  are  with  us. 
Capital  accumulated  in  ever  fewer  hands,  while  great 
capital  in  the  general  struggle  outflanked  and  exhausted 
small  capital.  Certain  examples  of  rapid  enrichment, 
met  with  in  the  satirists,  are  characteristic.  It  nnist 
have  been  Juvenal's  own  experience,  that  the  barber, 
"  under  whose  razor  his  beard  had  rustled,"  became  the 
possessor  of  innumerable  estates,  and  could  compete  with 
the  aristocracy  in  luxury  ;  '^  and  Martial's,  that  a  manu- 
mitted cobbler  was  rolling  in  riches  upon  the  estate  of 
his  former  master,  which  had  now  become  his  own.^^ 
Under  Domitian,  a  former  shoemaker  of  Bologna,  and  a 


110  CIIEISTIAN  CIIAKITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [boOK  II. 

fuller  of  Modena,  gave  gladiatorial  sliows.^^  The  father  of 
the  emperor  Pertinax  at  first  carried  on  a  lai'ge  charcoal, 
and  afterwards  a  large  wood  trade.  Having  grown  rich, 
he  traded  with  liis  money,  especially  by  the  cutting  up 
of  peasant  farms,  lending  to  small  j)roprietors  at  high 
interest,  in  order  afterwards  to  drive  them  from  their 
possessions.  He  thus  accumulated  large  estates.  The 
financial  talents  of  the  father  were  inherited  by  his  son, 
who  had  all  the  paraphernalia  of  Commodus'  extravagance, 
including  hundreds  of  prostitutes,  sold  by  public  auction. 
That  extravagance  would  thus  be  dispersed  in  a  larger 
circle  did  not  trouble  him,  for  it  brought  in  money. 
Vespasian  invested  a  portion  of  his  capital  in  a  hired- 
carriage  business,  on  which  account  the  people  jocularly 
called  him  the  hired-coachman.  It  is  quite  charac- 
teristic of  an  age  of  economic  freedom  to  seek  gain 
wherever  it  is  to  be  found,  without  much  caring  how 
it  is  acquired. 

Capital,  thus  accumulated  in  the  hands  of  individuals, 
took  chiefly  the  form  of  landed  property.  As  with  our- 
selves large  capital  swallows  up  small,  and  large  indus- 
trial undertakings  lesser  enterprises,  so  too  did  large 
landed  estates  absorb  smaller  ones.  The  enormous  lati- 
fnndia,  the  estates  of  many  square  miles,  which  have 
been  already  mentioned,  arose.  Even  in  Nero's  time 
half  the  province  of  Africa  belonged  to  only  six  owners. 
Seneca  tells  us  that  country-seats  were  like  provinces ; 
and  Pliny,  in  whose  days  the  liarm  of  this  system  was 
already  very  evident,  says :  "  The  latifundia  have  ruined 
Italy." '« 

Times  in  which  capital  accumulates  on  the  one  side, 
while  means  become  so  much  the  more  straitened  and 
wretched  on  the  other,  are  exactly  fitted  to  furnish  u  pro- 


GHA.P.  I.]  POVERTY  AND  DISTRESS.  Ill 

ductive  field  for  usury.  All  Eoman  history  is  interwoven 
with  complaints  about  usury,  and  with  a  fruitless  contest 
against  it."  In  the  times  of  the  first  emperors  the  rate 
of  interest  in  Eome  was  moderate,  viz.  6,  and  often  only 
4  per  cent.,  while  to  take  above  12  was  reckoned  usury. 
In  -the  provinces  much  more,  24,  nay  even  40,  was  taken, 
and  even  respectable  people  were  not  ashamed  of  thus 
enriching  themselves.  Seneca,  who  talks  so  much  of 
virtue,  carried  on  an  extensive  traffic  in  usury.  He  had 
invested  several  millions  in  Britain,  and  when  he  suddenly 
gave  notice  that  he  required  higher  interest  for  his  capital 
there,  all  Britain  was  disquieted,^^  Countless  numbers 
were  ruined  by  such  blood-suckers,  and,  with  increasing 
impoverishment,  the  complaints  concerning  usury  and  its 
pernicious  consequences  also  increased. 

The  result  of  all  these  circumstances  was  not  merely 
a  shifting  of  property,  an  accumulation  of  it  with  the 
few  and  the  impoverishment  of  the  many,  but  also  the 
impoverishment  of  the  Empire  in  general  The  unequal 
distribution  of  property  is  in  itself  no  evil,  assuming  that 
the  money  is  again  circulated  with  prolific  effect  by  those 
with  whom  it  has  accumulated.  The  luxury  rendered 
possible  by  wealth  awakens  industry,  revives  trade,  and 
gives  employment  and  food  to  thousands.  And  this  was 
the  case  in  Eome.  The  early  imperial  epoch  everywhere 
exhibits  an  enhanced  activity  running  parallel  with 
increasing  luxury.  The  glass  manufactories  of  Phcenicia, 
the  purple  dyeries  of  Tyre,  the  weaving  factories  of  Alex- 
andria, the  whole  produce  of  skilled  workmanship  then  at 
its  perfection,  the  horticulture,  the  cultivation  of  the  vine — 
all  these  could  not  have  continued  unless  Eome  had  been 
a  mart  for  their  different  wares,  unless  the  increasing 
wealth  of  individuals  had  made  it  possible  to   pay  the 


112  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [bOOK  II. 

highest  prices  for  them.^"  But  luxury  has  these  results 
only  so  long  as  it  remains  within  certain  reasonable 
limits.  Tliere  is  also  a  foolish  luxury  which  produces 
exactly  opposite  effects,  and  may,  as  may  generally  be 
said  of  Eonian  luxury  in  the  time  of  the  emperors,  be 
certainly  carried  too  far.  In  fact,  it  was  the  luxury  now 
existing  in  Eome,  which  could  not  fail  at  last  to  lead  to 
the  impoverishment  of  the  whole  people.  How  much 
fertile  land  was  withdrawn  from  its  proper  destination  by 
the  country-seats  as  large  as  provinces,  by  the  gardens 
and  preserves  of  the  lionian  grandees ;  how  much  labour 
power  was  squandered  unproductively  in  buildings,  when 
lakes  were  made  where  land  had  been,  merely  to  gratify 
a  whim,  and  a  site  for  a  palace  produced  in  the  midst 
of  the  sea  by  artificial  mounds  ;  what  ca])ital  was  laid 
out  in  the  silver  plate  and  expensive  furniture  with  which 
the  palaces  were  filled,  silver  vases  of  500  lbs.  weight, 
triclinia  which  cost  four  million  sestertii  (about  £35,000), 
in  ornaments  of  pearls  avid  precious  stones,  which  were 
then  in  fashion  ;  how  many  strong  men,  who  might  by 
their  labour  have  contributed  to  the  increase  of  the 
national  wealth,  wandered  idly  about  the  streets  of  Eome 
as  clients  in  the  atria  of  the  nobles,  as  citizens  who 
received  largesses  of  corn.  If  a  great  part  of  the  money 
expended  in  luxury  remained  in  the  Empire,  a  great  part 
was  consumed  without  results,  and  no  less  went  abroad. 
The  trade  with  India  and  Arabia  was  almost  entirely 
passive.  Some  wine  and  pottery  were  indeed  sent  thither, 
otherwise  the  silks  of  China,  the  precious  stones  and  dyed 
goods  of  India,  the  spices  of  Arabia,  would  have  had  to 
be  paid  for  in  ready  money,  without  any  mutual  exchange, 
and  Pliny  estimates  their  annual  amount  at  150,000,000 
HS.  (about  £1,200,000  to  £1,250,000).2*^ 


CHAP.  I.]  POVERTY  AND  DISTRESS.  113 

If  such  extravagance  on  the  part  of  private  individuals 
must  have  been  pernicious  to  the  general  welfare,  how 
much  more  so  that  of  the  emperors  themselves  !  It  was 
the  wasteful  profusion  of  Nero  in  particular,  that  laid  the 
foundation  of  these  financial  embarrassments  of  the  State, 
which,  notwithstanding  the  subsequent  careful  admini- 
stration of  the  finances  by  the  emperors  of  the  Flavian 
house,  never  ceased  and  led  to  a  continually  heavier 
burden  of  taxation.  The  gifts  of  Nero  to  his  friends  and 
dependants  which  can  be  computed — and  how  many  are 
there  which  cannot — amounted  to  2200  million  hs.  (about 
£19,300,000).  After  his  reign  the  Pretorians  received 
their  corn  gratis,  and  ever  increasing];  largesses  in  addition. 
At  the  commencement  of  a  new  reign  they  received, 
according  to  Tacitus,  15,000  hs.  (£130),  according  to 
Joseph  us,  20,000  (£175)  each,  an  expenditure  of  150  or 
200  million  hs.  (£1,750,000).  The  'government  of  the 
State  became  on  the  whole  increasingly  expensive.  The 
army  required  more,  the  rising  and  increasing  bureaucracy 
not  less. 

Legally  regarded,  taxation  in  the  Roman  State  was 
unlimited.  The  emperor  imposed  it  arbitrarily.  The 
provinces  were  a  conquered  country,  which  as  such  was 
entirely  in  the  hands  of  the  conqueror,  and  when  under 
Caracalla  the  provincials  collectively  received  the  Roman 
citizenship,  the  rule  of  the  emperor  was  already  so 
absolute,  that  he  could  treat  the  whole  Empire  as  his 
domain.  Augustus,  perceiving  the  importance  of  a  careful 
administration  of  finance  to  the  monarchy  which  was  coming 
into  existence,  laid  a  secure  foundation  for  the  levying 
of  taxation  by  instituting  an  accurate  survey  of  the  land. 
But  if  the  levying  became  thereby  more  equitable,  the 
screw  was  now  only  the  more  severely  applied.     To  the 

H 


114  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.      [book  n. 

original  taxes,  poll-tax  and  tribute,  were  added  after 
Vespasian  taxes  on  trade  and  commerce.  The  oppressive- 
ness of  taxation  was  rendered  still  worse  by  the  manner 
of  levying  it.  While  with  us,  if  an  individual  is 
incapable  of  paying  his  taxes,  his  quota  gets  left  out  and  is 
paid  by  no  one,  the  whole  body  of  citizens  was,  accord- 
ing to  Eoman  fiscal  law,  answerable  for  it.  The  taxes 
were  calculated  for  the  entire  community  and  must  be 
fully  paid  up,  even  if  ever  so  many  persons  were  unable 
to  contribute  their  shares.  If  even  the  city  could  not  pay 
the  whole,  the  deficiency  was  regarded  as  a  debt  due  to 
the  State ;  and  thus  was  formed,  it  might  be  said,  a  nega- 
tive national  debt,  of  the  extent  of  which  we  have  an 
example  in  Hadrian's  remission  of  taxation,  and  which 
must  have  been  far  more  burdensome  than  modern 
national  debts. 

Besides  taxes  properly  so  called,  a  large  quantity  of 
natural  productions  {munera  publico)  had  to  be  delivered. 
The  provinces  had  to  furnish  corn,  and  what  was  more,  to 
send  it  where  it  had  to  be  consumed.  Clothing,  arms, 
etc.,  had  to  be  supplied  for  the  army.  There  were  also 
endless  transports  of  supplies  and  soldiers,  relays  of  horses, 
ad  apparatum  annonce,  ad  splendorem  dcfensionis  puhlicce. 
When  the  emperor  Probus  kept  the  soldiers  to  useful 
labour,  e.g.  to  the  laying  out  of  vineyards  on  the  Ehine, 
"  that  they  might  not  eat  their  bread  for  nothing,"  and, 
beguiled  by  the  dreams  of  peace  which  we  often  meet 
with  in  a  world  weary  of  the  noise  of  arms,  added,  "  we 
shall  soon  need  no  more  soldiers,"  his  biographer,  Vopiscus, 
breaks  out  into  the  sigh :  "  The  blessing  is  scarcely  to  be 
understood !  A  State  at  peace  far  and  near  I  Who  in  all 
the  world  would  then  need  to  forge  arms,  to  forward 
supplies,  to  give  personal  or  horse  service !    The  ox  would 


CHAP,  l]  POVERTY  AND  DISTRESS.  115 

again  belong  to  the  plough,  and  the  horse  to  the  employ- 
ments of  peace."  ^^  The  supply  of  post-horses  was  felt  to 
be  a  specially  burdensome  requisition.  Augustus  had 
instituted,  at  the  expense  of  the  State,  a  regular  postal 
service,  which  was  afterwards  imposed  upon  the  cities.  The 
use  of  the  post  was  not  open  to  the  public,  but  the  officials 
all  had  free  travelling.  Aurelius  Victor  shows  how  severe 
was  this  burden,  when  he  calls  the  post  "  a  very  useful 
institution,  which  the  greed  of  posterity  transformed  into 
a  pest  to  the  Eoman  world." 

If  we  add  to  this,  that  with  the  Antonines  the  season 
of  peace  came  to  an  end,  that  the  whole  world  was  in 
arms  during  the  third  century,  that  on  the  boundaries 
there  was  the  never-ending  war  with  the  barbarians,  who 
•were  already  penetrating  with  desolating  results  into  the 
Empire,  in  the  interior  continual  revolutions,  no  strong 
government,  but  a  series  of  conspiracies  and  assassinations, 
we  shall  no  longer  be  surprised  at  the  rapidly  increasing 
impoverishment  of  the  Empire,  and  shall  understand  how 
the  emperor  Diocletian,  with  whom  a  new  period  begins 
to  dawn,  found  himself  constrained  to  adopt  despotic 
financial  measures,  to  tax  the  necessaries  of  life,  etc., — 
measures  which  for  a  period  postponed,  but  could  not 
entirely  prevent,  the  overthrow  of  the  Empire.  From 
Constantine  onwards  the  Empire  already  exhibits  the 
appearance  of  political  bankruptcy. 

While  prosperity  was  thus  everywhere  declining,  a 
revolution  in  political  economy  was  at  the  same  time 
commencing  from  very  small  beginnings.  In  this  sphere, 
too,  the  life  of  the  old  world  was  dying  out,  and  gradually 
giving  place  to  a  new ;  and  from  the  time  of  Constantine 
economic  relations  bear  a  modern,  and  no  longer  the 
ancient  character.     And  the  more  powerful  the   subse- 


116  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  n. 

qiient  influence  of  this  revolution  upon  charity  also,  the 
more  necessary  is  it  to  notice  its  beginnings. 

The  entire  ancient  economy  received  its  impress  from 
slavery.  Now,  in  the  imperial  epoch  the  number  of  slaves 
began  considerably  to  decrease.  There  was  nothing  to 
compensate  for  the  cessation  of  the  wars  of  conquest, 
which  had  constantly  furnished  the  Empire  with  fresh 
hordes  of  slaves.  The  Jewish  war  once  more  brought  a 
multitude  of  slaves — for  the  most  part,  indeed,  tolerably 
useless — into  the  market ;  but  from  that  time  the  only 
important  supply  was  from  children  born  in  slavery,  for 
the  wars  with  the  barbarians  yielded  but  few.  Though 
the  marriages  of  slaves  were,  consequently,  more  favoured 
than  formerly,  though  the  attempt  was  made  to  preserve 
the  existing  races  of  slaves  by  better  treatment,  though 
they  were  chastised — we  must  use  the  expression,  because 
it  answers  to  the  views  of  the  ancients — more  rationally, 
so  to  speak,  all  this  was  insufficient.  For  the  manumissions 
were  now  more  numerous  than  the  increase.  Hence  the  price 
of  slaves  rose  considerably.  While  Cato  states  the  price  of 
an  agricultural  slave  to  be  £48,  15s.,  Columella  reckons  it 
at  X78,  15s.  This  rise  of  prices  made  slave  labour  so 
costly,  that  in  the  sphere  of  agriculture,  recourse  was  had 
to  a  different  system  of  farming.  For  this  other  reasons 
also  existed.  The  employment  of  the  latifiindia,  especially 
for  pasturage,  became  increasingly  unprofitable,  because 
the  impoverishment  of  the  people  seriously  reduced  their 
ability  to  purchase  the  products  of  pasture  farming,  meat, 
wool,  skins,  etc.  Able  inspectors  for  the  great  estates 
were,  as  we  perceive  from  the  complaints  of  Columella 
and  Pliny,  difficult  to  find.  Letting  was  impossible, 
because  a  respectable  class  of  tenants  did  not  exist.  Thus 
the  farming  of  large  estates  gave  way   again  to  small 


CHAP,  l]  poverty  and  distress.  117 

farming.  The  proprietorship  of  the  latifundia  indeed  re- 
mained, but  the  proprietors  increasingly  gave  the  farming 
of  portions  of  their  lands  to  slaves,  for  the  surrender  of  a 
portion  of  the  produce.  Tliese,  indeed,  remained  slaves, 
but  they  already  occupied  a  different  position  from  the 
former  agricultural  slaves,  who  worked  divided  into 
decuries,  with  fetters  on  their  limbs.  Slavery  was  begin- 
ning to  be  transformed  into  vassalage, 

A  cowesponding  change  was  simultaneously  accom- 
plished in  trade.  Here,  too,  retail  trade  was  obtaining 
more  room ;  here,  too,  the  free  workman  was  beginning 
to  supplant  the  slave.  A  kind  of  middle  class  was  being 
formed  out  of  the  numerous  freedmen.  But  the  main 
point  is  that  the  period  of  free  trade  was  ending,  and  an 
organization  of  labour  of  a  peculiar  kind  beginning.  The 
means  were  furnished  by  the  collegia  of  artisans,  wlio 
much  resembled  the  guilds  and  companies  of  the  middle 
ages,  but  nevertheless  essentially  differed  from  them  in 
being  institutions  connected  with  the  State.  The  State 
demanded  from  the  collegia  certain  performances,  and 
granted  them  in  exchange  certain  privileges,  especially 
immunity  from  other  burdens.  Their  members  were  a 
kind  of  State  officials,  and  the  labour  thus  organized 
formed  a  part  of  the  ever  increasingly  complicated  ma- 
chinery of  the  State.  Something  similar  had  formerly 
existed.  All  the  officials  of  the  Annona,  the  seamen  who 
carried  corn,  the  storehouse  officers  who  collected,  housed, 
and  distributed  it,  and  the  bakers  who  baked  the  bread, 
were  State  employes.  The  State  had  already  a  multitude 
of  officials  such  as  the  modern  State  is  unacquainted  with. 
The  organization  of  labour  was  instituted,  while  this  class 
of  officials  was  increasing;  and  labour,  when  organized  into 
collegia,  was  received  into  the  machinery  of  the  State. 


118  CHRISTIAN  CHARITy  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.      [booK  n. 

The  entire  development,  which  commences  in  the 
period  we  are  now  considering,  and  comes  to  maturity  in 
that  which  follows,  was  undoubtedly  a  progress.  Labour 
again  began  to  be  appreciated  ;  the  thought,  that  the 
hitherto  despised  artisan  also  served  the  State,  became  a 
customary  one.  A  just  moral  estimation  of  free  labour 
was  not  indeed  yet  reached.  To  this  the  old  world  never 
rose.  The  organization  of  labour  was  only  a  forced 
organization ;  and  force,  as  we  shall  see,  became,  as  the 
difficulties  of  the  State  increased,  more  and  more  the 
impelling  and  uniting  power. 

The  question,  whether  Christianity  had  already  had 
any  influence  in  this  change,  is  an  obvious  one.  It  is 
possible,  for  it  took  place  at  a  time  when  the  influence  of 
Christian  views  in  general  on  heathen  views  cannot  be 
doubted.  On  the  other  hand,  Christianity,  as  then  con- 
stituted, must  be  reproached  for  not  making  the  spirit  by 
which  it  was  ruled  more  powerfully  dominant.  If  the 
genuine  Christian  appreciation  of  the  work  of  a  man's 
calling  had  been  still  active  in  the  Church,  and  Jhad  been 
carried  out  to  its  consequences,  the  result  must  have  been 
something  very  different  from  this  forced  organization  of 
labour,  which  at  last  transformed  all  into  slaves.  But 
when  the  Church  began  to  exercise  an  influence  upon 
public  life,  the  Christian  view  of  labour  was  already  much 
obscured.  This,  too,  furnishes  a  proof  of  the  fact,  how 
little  Christianity  pervaded  the  ancient  world. 

Nor  could  this  new  organization  prevent  the  financial 
ruin,  being  indeed,  on  the  contrary,  a  symptom  of  it, 
and  becoming  in  its  turn  a  co-operative  cause ;  for  it 
made  a  flourishing  state  of  trade  and  agriculture  impos- 
sible. It  could  only  with  difficulty  postpone  it  for  a 
period.     The  characteristic  of  the  age  continued  to  be  an 


CHAP.  I.]  POyERTY  AND  DISTRESS.  119 

increasing  impoverishment  ever  extending  to  larger 
numbers.  It  was  in  the  period  next  succeeding,  that  it 
reached  its  full  development  and  imposed  new  tasks  and 
duties  on  Christian  charity.  But  it  was  of  importance, 
that  the  Church  was  bom  in  a  more  fortunate  age,  and  its 
activity  begun. before  it  was  made  difficult  by  a  distress 
so  gigantic  in  its  proportions,  that  it  could  gain  strength 
while  troubles  were  increasing,  and  thus  become  capable 
of  greater  exertions. 


CHAPTER    II. 


FIEST  LOVE. 


The  charity  of  an  age,  the  proportion  of  its  alms,  the 
motives  from  which,  and  the  manner  in  which  they  are 
given,  the  application  of  its  liberality,  and  the  end  kept 
in  view  therein,  are  not  accidental.  Tor  as  charity  is 
but  one  department  of  Christian  life,  so  too  does  it  receive 
its  impress  from  the  character  of  Christian  life  in  general 
during  the  period  in  question. 

The  Christian  life  of  the  first  centuries  still  exhibits 
first  of  all  the  character  of  youthful  vigour.  Faith 
developed  its  full  energy  in  the  transformation  of  the 
moral  life,  love  was  ardent  and  rendered  men  willing 
and  capable  for  any  sacrifice,  hope  for  the  speedy  con- 
summation of  the  kingdom  of  God,  by  the  glorious  return 
of  Christ,  pointed  to  an  aim  of  the  whole  life,  beside 
which  all  others  appeared  insignificant.  The  transition  to 
another  period  is  first  denoted  by  the  crisis  called  forth 
by  Montanism.  From  that  time  onwards  the  Church 
lived,  mingled  with  the  world,  and  itself  became  different. 
Its  early  youth  was  past.  In  the  time  of  Cyprian  the 
features  may  already  be  recognized — at  least  as  in  for- 
mation— which  give  their  impress  to  the  Post-Constan- 
tinian  Church,  nay,  which  in  truth  characterize  the  entire 
media3val  Church  down  to  the  Peformation. 

Youth  does  not  reflect,  it  acts  from  the  direct  impulses 


120 


CHAP,  n.]  FIRST  LOVE.  121 

arising  from  its  present  abundant  vitality.  Youth  is 
willing  to  make  sacrifices,  ready  in  its  easily  excited 
enthusiasm  to  give  up  anything.  Youth  is  easily  moved  ; 
the  abundance  is  as  yet  greater  than  the  form  of  its 
vitality.  There  is  as  yet  nothing  of  ossification,  hence 
the  manifold  variety  of  shape  it  can  assume ;  it  is  rather 
hostile  than  inclined  to  uniformity,  and  its  life  has  a 
facility  for  taking  new  forms.  In  short,  everything  is  as 
yet  in  a  state  of  active  fluxion. 

So,  too,  was  it  with  the  charity  of  the  perio'd.  There 
was  as  yet  no  reflection  as  to  why  alms  were  given  and 
benevolence  exercised.  For  this  was  self-evident.  Still 
less  was  consideration  exercised  as  to  whom  to  give  and 
do  good  to.  Where  there  was  distress,  relief  was  given. 
"We  communicate  to  all,  and  give  to  every  one  who  is 
in  need,"  says  Justin;  and  the  older  Fathers  interpret  our 
Lord's  saying,  "  Give  to  every  one  that  asketh  of  thee," 
to  mean  quite  simply,  that  every  suppliant  was  to  receive 
without  distinction^  "  Give  simply  to  all,"  it  is  said  in 
the  Shepherd  of  Hermas,^  "  without  asking  doubtfully  to 
whom  thou  givest,  but  give  to  aU.  For  God  desires  thee, 
to  give  to  all  of  that  which  thou  hast.  They  who  receive 
will  give  account  to  God,  why  and  for  what  they  receive. 
They  who  take  anything  under  an  appearance  of  pretended 
need,  will  have  to  give  account  of  it  to  God,  but  they 
who  give  will  be  blameless."  Similarly  does  Clement  of 
Alexandria^  warn,  not  to  judge  who  is  deserving  and  who 
is  undeserving.  "  For  by  being  fastidious  and  setting 
thyself  to  try  who  are  fit  for  thy  benevolence,  and  who 
not,  it  is  possible  that  thou  mayest  neglect  some  who  are 
the  friends  of  God."  Still  less  was  it  reflected  what  the 
giver  of  alms  and  kindnesses  would  obtain  for  himself. 
The   thought,   indeed,  that    almsgiving   and    beneficence 


122  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.      [book  n. 

bring  a  blessing  was  not  absent,  this  being  already  stated 
in  the  New  Testament.  Nay,  here  and  there  emerges 
already  that  notion,  which  goes  beyond  the  New  Testa- 
ment, that  this  blessing  consists  in  the  expiation  of  sin. 
But  all  these  thoughts  are  by  no  means  so  prominent  as 
they  are  in  Cyprian,  and  still  more  so  in  later  writers. 
Alms  were  given,  not  for  the  sake  of  the  giver  getting 
something,  but  to  relieve  the  poor  and  needy,  from  the 
direct  constraint  of  sympathizing  love,  and  the  conscious- 
ness of  the  love  experienced  in  Christ.  How  simply  does 
the  reference  to  reward  appear  in  the  Epistle  of  Barnabas, 
and  how  does  it  still  keep  within  the  limits  of  apostolic 
teaching !  "  Hesitate  not  to  give,  and  give  without 
grudging,  but  consider  who  will  be  the  good  Eepayer  of 
the  reward."  * 

Great  self-sacrifice  was  found  in  all  the  churches. 
Christians  gave  willingly,  not  merely  according  to  their 
means,  but  beyond  them.  They  gave  not  of  their  super- 
fluity, but  of  their  labour,  and  shunned  no  sacrifice.  Not 
till  the  third  century  do  we  hear  complaints  of  the  abate- 
ment of  this  readiness  for  self-sacrifice.  Hence  there 
needed  as  yet  no  special  incentive  to  arouse  it,  and  still 
less  any  constraint,  whether  direct  or  indirect.  It  was  the 
time  of  perfectly  free  gifts.  "  Every  man  according  as  he 
is  disposed  in  his  heart ! "  The  apostolic  saying  was  still 
the  rule ;  and  if  here  and  there  some  teacher  of  the  third 
century  already  spoke  of  the  law  of  tithes  and  first-fruits, 
this  points,  indeed,  to  the  way  in  which  alms  would 
subsequently  be  given,  but  in  presence  of  the  gladness 
with  which  they  were  then  bestowed,  it  sounds  almost 
like  a  discord.  Nay,  there  was  as  yet  no  need  of  urgent 
exhortations  to  almsgiving.  The  preachers  of  the  Post- 
Constantiniau  age,  a  Chrysostom,  a  Basil,  an  Ambrose,  an 


CHAP,  n.]  FIRST  LOVK  123 

Augustine,  use  every  inducement  to  move  their  hearers 
to  liberal  alms.  Of  this  we  find  nothing  in  this  period. 
It  is  remarked,  that  it  is  the  command  of  Christ,  love  is 
praised,  the  love  of  Christ  to  us  extolled,  the  congregation 
are  reminded,  that  they  are  common  sharers  in  things 
spiritual,  and  that  it  should  therefore  be  their  custom 
to  be  such  in  things  earthly,''  but  all  this  so  simply  and 
plainly,  that  we  directly  feel  there  was  as  yet  no  need  of 
oratorical  arts  to  arouse  to  activity  the  love  which  every- 
where existed.  Cyprian  is  in  this  respect  also  the  first 
who  strikes  a  different  note.  His  work  on  alms  is  the 
first  that  was  written  on  the  subject.  The  fact  that  it 
should  be  necessary  to  write  upon  it,  already  shows  that 
the  times  were  beginning  to  change  and  first  love,  to 
abate. 

Appointed  forms  for  the  practice  of  charity  in  the 
churches  existed  indeed  from  the  first,  appointed  rules, 
appointed  persons,  on  whom  the  relief  of  the  poor  was 
officially  incumbent ;  but  all  these  were  more  or  less 
fluctuating.  And  this  is  why  it  is  now  so  difficult  to 
obtain  a  correct  view  of  them.  Undoubtedly  there  were 
different  arrangements  in  different  places.  It  was  not  till 
church  government  in  general  acquired  a  more  stable 
form,  that  these  rules  also  took  a  firmer  and  more  uniform 
shape.  As  yet  institutions  did  not  exist.  There  was  no 
need  of  houses  of  hospitality,  houses  for  foreigners, 
orphanages,  hospitals,  so  long  as  every  Christian  house 
was  an  asylum  for  travelling  brothers,  and  every  Christian 
man  and  woman  was  ready  to  receive  the  indigent. 
There  was  indeed  an  official  diaconate,  but  this  did  not 
exclude  any  from  freely  exercising  in  their  measure  and 
in  their  own  manner  the  works  officially  incumbent  upon 
it.     Together  with  the  regular  charity  of  the  Church,  was 


124  CHEISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.      [book  n. 

developed  a  rich  abundance  of  private  beneficence,  and 
the  two  frequently  run  into  each  other  without  observing 
any  strict  limits. 

Besides,  this  period  was  the  time  of  conflict  with  the 
prevailing  heathenism,  the  time  of  persecution.  This  not 
only  imposed  new  tasks  on  Christian  charity — care  for 
those  who  were  the  objects  of  persecution,  for  confessors 
in  prison,  for  those  who  had  suffered  the  loss  of  property 
and  were  in  poverty  through  their  faith,  for  those  also 
whose  entrance  into  the  Church  caused  them  to  give  up 
their  former  trade,  and  so  deprived  them  of  the  necessaries 
of  life, — it  also  impressed  upon  all  other  exercises  of 
charity  a  character  quite  peculiar.  Even  if  persecutions 
came  only  by  fits  and  starts  and  lasted  in  their  violence 
but  a  short  time,  the  opposition  to  the  surrounding 
heathen  world,  the  internal  struggle  against  it,  and  the 
consequent  tension  were  lasting.  Christian  life  during 
this  period  acquired  thereby  great  energy,  deep  earnest- 
ness, genuine  simplicity.  Christians,  as  TertuUian  says, 
are  always  standing  on  guard  against  the  dark  demoniac 
powers  which  rule  around  them  :  a  "  race  ready  for  death," 
they  know  what  they  are  about,  and  what  pertains  to 
winning  the  victor's  crown  ;  all  their  efforts  are  concen- 
trated on  this  one  point.  The  task  of  fieeing  from  the 
world  was  in  the  front  rank  of  the  Christian's  duties,  that 
of  penetrating  the  world  with  the  new  life  only  gradually 
dawned  upon  him.  The  Church  had  as  yet  no  abiding 
place  in  the  world ;  it  was  more  like  a  camp  in  presence 
of  the  enemy  than  a  peaceful  city.  It  had  not  yet 
developed  the  ornamental,  the  luxuries  of  life  were  still 
far  off;  no  splendid  churclies,  no  proud  priesthood,  no 
lands,  no  possession  of  money  or  property.  Till  the  turn 
of  the  second  and  third  century  it  was  scarcely  imagined, 


CHAP,  n.]  FIRST  LOVE.  125 

that  the  Church  could  ever  become  a  ruling  power,  could 
ever  occupy  the  same  position  in  respect  to  the  State  that 
heathenism  now  did.  On  the  contrary,  thought  was  turned 
to  quite  another  victory,  to  the  Lord's  return  and  to  the 
victory  which  He  would  introduce.  Hence  the  future 
was  not  yet  cared  for,  the  present  conflict  demanding  all 
the  Christian's  efforts  and  strength.  In  conformity  with 
this  state  of  things,  charity,  too,  was  never  directed  towards 
the  future.  The  Church  as  yet  made  no  collections  for 
the  benefit  of  posterity,  nor  do  we  meet  with  institutions 
calculated  to  be  a  benefit  to  future  generations.  Such 
means  as  it  had  were  devoted  to  the  exigencies  of  the 
moment,  and  men  did  not  shrink,  especially  in  times  of 
persecution,  from  giving  all  that  they  possessed  to  con- 
tribute to  the  distress  of  the  hour.  With  respect  to  this, 
however,  the  greatest  energy  was  displayed.  The  object 
aimed  at  and  actually  attained,  was,  that  no  member  of 
the  Church  should  suffer  want.  But  all  was  plain  and 
simple.  Just  as  there  were  no  large  churches,  so  there 
were  no  large  buildings  and  institutions  for  the  relief  of 
the  poor.  As  it  was  required  of  every  Christian  that  he 
should  labour  with  all  diligence  for  his  own  maintenance 
and  then  be  satisfied  with  bare  necessaries,  so  also  was 
this  required  of  the  poor.  Almsgiving  had  then  nothing 
of  that  weak  humanity  so  often  apparent  in  later  times, 
and  nothing  was  more  remote  from  the  practice  of 
Christians,  than  the  encouragement  of  mendicancy  and  the 
preparation  of  a  comfortable  living  for  idlers  and  vagrants 
at  the  expense  of  the  Church.  "  For  those  able  to  work, 
work,  for  those  tinable  to  work,  compassion,"  is  a  saying 
which,  though  found  in  a  heretical  work,^  was  the  motto 
of  the  whole  Church. 

Work,  property,  alms — these  three  are  closely  united. 


126  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.      [bOOK  U. 

A  healthy  charity  is  only  possible  where  healthy  moral 
views  of  work  and  property  prevail,  as  inversely,  a  false 
moral  appreciation  of  labour  and  property  inevitably 
produces  morbid  phenomena  in  the  sphere  of  charity.  A 
healthy  charity  can  neither  be  attained  to,  where  there  is 
an  over-estimation  of  property,  where  wealth  is  regarded 
as  the  supreme  good,  poverty  as  the  greatest  evil,  nor 
where  property  is  undervalued  and  wealth  looked  upon 
as  no  real  good,  poverty  as  no  real  evil.  For  in  the 
former  case  no  one  can  feel  bound  to  sacrifice  his  earthly 
good,  for  the  sake  of  a  higher  good,  for  the  service  of  his 
neighbour,  and  gifts  and  alms  will  fail.  In  the  latter 
these  will  not  indeed  be  wanting ;  on  the  contrary,  alms- 
giving will  be  enormous,  but  its  right  application  will 
fail.  For  if  to  be  poor  is  no  evil,  if,  on  the  contrary,  it 
denotes  a  higher  moral  condition  than  to  be  rich,  the  task 
of  charity  cannot  consist  in  opposing  and  alleviating 
poverty.  Almsgiving  then  becomes  a  good  work  in 
itself,  a  good  work  complete  in  the  act  of  giving  and  the 
renunciation  of  property  therein  involved,  without  regard 
to  the  application  of  the  gift  and  the  end  attained 
thereby. 

A  rejection  of  property  on  principle  is  only  met  with 
m  schismatic  circles.  The  Gnostics,  in  whose  eyes  this 
world  was  the  production  of  an  inferior,  and  not  of  the 
supreme  God,  could  not  but  consistently  reject  all  pos- 
sessions and  enjoyment  of  earthly  property  ;  and  such 
notions  were  also  so  much  the  more  natural  to  the  Judaio- 
Christians  with  their  legal  and  ascetic  tendency,  in  that 
they  had  in  the  Essenes^  the  model  of  a  communistically 
constituted  society  before  their  eyes.*  When,  on  the 
other  hand,  it  is  said  in  the  Epistle  of  Barnabas  :^  "  Thou 
must  in  all  things  be  in  partnership  with  thy  neighbours, 


CHAP,  n.]  FIRST  LOVE.  127 

and  not  say :  Tliat  belongs  to  me !  for  if  we  share  in 
imperishable  things,  how  much  more  in  perishable  ;"  or 
when  TertuUian^^  boasts  :  "  "We  Christians  have  all  things 
in  common  except  wives,"  these  sayings  are  but  stray 
expressions  for  the  duty  of  the  equalization  of  property  in 
love,  and  do  not  designedly  go  beyond  the  appreciation 
of  property  laid  down  in  the  New  Testament. 

It  is  certain,  however,  that  we  do  really  encounter  a 
strong  indifference  to  earthly  possessions.  The  more 
heartily  the  heavenly  blessings  of  the  kingdom  of  God 
were  embraced,  the  more  must  earthly  goods  have  lost 
their  value.  The  more  intently  the  eye  was  directed  to 
another  world  and  to  a  speedy  termination  of  this  dispen- 
sation, the  more  must  earth  have  appeared  a  foreign 
country,  and  earthly  property  an  uncertain  possession.  To 
this  was  added  the  fact,  that  in  times  of  persecution  the 
temptation  connected  with  wealth  was  stronger  than  usual, 
while  experience  showed,  that  the  rich  renounced  their 
faith  more  readily  than  the  poor.  "  You  are  dwelling 
here  in  a  foreign  city,"  says  Hermas  to  Christians.^^ 
"  Would  any  one  dwelling  in  a  foreign  city  provide  himself 
with  fields  and  expensive  accommodations  V  Christians 
should  consider,  that  in  such  a  case  the  lord  of  the  city 
will  require  of  them  also,  obedience  to  the  laws  therein 
enforced.  Then  they  must  obey  and  thus  apostatize  from 
Christ,  or  lose  their  possessions  and  be  driven  out. 
Hermas  had  himself  experienced  the  dangers  of  riches, 
and  was  reminded  by  the  Angel  Of  Eepentance :  "  When 
thou  wast  rich  thou  wast  useless,  now  (after  Hermas  had 
lost  his  property)  art  thou  useful  and  skilful  in  thy  call- 
ing."*^ But  such  thoughts  also  have  indeed  their  points 
of  contact  in  the  New  Testament,  and  even  if  individuals 
have  exceeded  in  this  respect,  like  the  ascetics  met  with 


128  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.      [boOK  H. 

in  many  churches,  e.g.  the  confessor  Alcibiades  in  Lyons, 
who  lived  on  bread  and  water  only,  but  was  afterwards 
persuaded  by  his  fellow-confessor  Attains,  that  it  was 
not  wrong  to  enjoy  what  God  had  niade,^^  or  liket  he 
Christians  in  Carthage  whom  Tertullian  praises^*  for 
abstaining  from  the  use  of  wine  and  meat,  the  Church  on 
the  whole  held  firmly  to  the  rule,  that  it  is  not  sinful  to 
acquire  and  possess  earthly  goods  and  to  enjoy  in  modera- 
tion what  God  bestows.  Hermas^^  somewhere  compares 
the  rich  to  round  stones,  who  must  be  hewn  before  they 
can  fit  into  the  building  of  the  Church,  that  is  to  say, 
must  be  deprived  of  their  wealth  if  they  are  to  be  genuine 
members  of  the  Church.  He  is,  however,  by  no  means  of 
opinion,  that  their  whole  property  should  be  taken  from 
them,  but  only  so  much,  that  they  may  not  succumb  to 
the  temptations  of  riches.  This  happens  to  them  because 
they  are  good,  and  God  would  have  them  remain  good. 
Even  Tertullian,  with  his  strong  tendency  to  despise  the 
world,  and  greatly  as  he  delights  iu  certain  individual 
ascetics,  like  those  who  took  neither  wine  nor  meat,  when 
speaking  less  from  such  individual  inclinations  than  from 
the  common  consciousness  of  the  Church,  describes 
Christians  as  taking  part  in  the  intercourse  and  trade  of 
the  world  and  possessing  and  enjoying  the  good  things  of 
earth  :  "  We  are  no  Brahmans  or  Indian  gymnosophists, 
no  wild  men  of  the  woods,  and  separatists  from  life.  We 
are  mindful  of  the  gratitude  which  we  owe  to  the  Lord 
our  God,  and  do  not  despise  the  enjoyment  of  His  works. 
We  only  so  moderate  it  as  to  avoid  excess  and  abuse. 
Hence,  like  yourselves,  we  do  not  dwell  in  the  world 
without  markets,  baths,  hotels,  workshops,  fairs,  and  every- 
thing pertaining  to  the  intercourse  of  life.  Like  your- 
selves, we  practise  navigation,  agriculture,  commerce  ;  we 


CHAP.  II.]  FIRST  LOVE.  129 

take  part  in  your  trades,  we  let  you  make  use  of  our 
labour  for  the  common  profit."^® 

Clement  of  Alexandria  expresses  himself  the  most  fully 
concerning  earthly  possessions  in  his  work  :  "  What  rich 
man  is  saved  ? "  He  first  rebukes  the  fear,  that  a  rich 
man  cannot  generally  speaking  be  saved,  as  unfounded. 
He  can,  if  he  lives  rightly.  He  then  shows,  in  an 
exposition  of  the  history  of  the  rich  young  man,  how  he 
must  live  to  be  saved.  "  The  Lord  commanded  the  rich 
young  man  to  sell  all  that  he  had.  But  what  does  this 
mean  ?  He  does  not  command  him,  as  some  too  hastily 
conclude,  to  throw  away  his  present  property,  to  separate 
himself  from  his  possessions,  but  to  get  rid  of  false 
opinions  concerning  wealth,  the  desire  and  pursuit  of  it, 
the  cares  of  life,  the  '  thorns  which  choke  the  good  seed.' 
For  it  is  not  great  and  a  matter  worthy  of  emulation  to 
suffer  want  of  property.  Else  indeed,  he  who  is  stripped 
of  everything  and  begs  for  the  barest  necessaries,  would 
be  happiest  and  most  pleasing  to  God,  and  would 
alone  possess  eternal  life.  This  too  would  be  nothing 
new,  for  even  before  Christ  there  have  been  those  who 
have  renounced  property,  one  to  have  leisure  for  science, 
another  for  the  sake  of  dead  wisdom,  a  third  for  vain 
praise  and  honour.  The  Son  of  God  does  not  demand 
that  which  is  an  object  of  sense.  He  demands  something 
greater,  more  divine,  more  perfect,  the  cleansing  of  the 
soul,  the  disposition  from  all  that  proceeds  from  passion. 
This  is  a  learning  peculiar  to  a  believer  and  a  teaching 
worthy  of  the  Redeemer.  They  who  renounce  property 
still  retain  passion  in  the  souL  They  walk  in  pride  and 
vanity  and  in  contempt  for  other  men,  as  though  tliey 
were  themselves  something  supernaturaL"^^  Clement  then 
expressly  acknowledges  that  wealth  is  a  benefit      It  too 

I 


130  CHRISTIAN  CHAEITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  n. 

has  its  advantages,  for  it  enables  us  to  help  others.  If 
the  Lord  had  taught  us  to  cast  away  our  possessions,  His 
teaching  would  be  in  opposition  to  the  command  to  love 
our  neighbour  as  ourselves.  Hence  we  are  not  to  cast 
away  our  property.  It  is  the  material,  the  instrument 
subjected  to  the  right  use  of  those  who  know  how  to 
make  a  right  use  of  it.  If  any  one  makes  a  wrong  use 
of  a  tool,  the  tool  is  blameless.  And  this  is  the  case 
with  wealth  wrongly  applied,  as  it  is  by  many.  Its 
nature  is  to  be  useful,  and  everything  depends  upon  how 
it  is  applied.  Nay,  salvation  in  general  depends  on 
nothing  external.  It  is  not  the  question  whether  a  man 
is  high  or  low,  rich  or  poor,  but  whether  he  has  faith, 
amendment,  love.^^ 

These  are  thoroughly  sound  views  of  earthly  posses- 
sions ;  the  kingdom  of  God  here  occupies  a  neutral  posi- 
tion with  respect  to  riches  and  poverty.  The  rich  man  may 
obtain  salvation  as  well  as  the  poor,  if  only  he  uses  his 
wealth  aright.  It  is  true  that  Clement  sees  the  right  use 
of  wealth  chiefly  in  almsgiving,  but  how  healthy  the 
moral  views  still  were  is  shown  by  the  fact,  that  while  he 
urgently  exhorts  to  make  friends  of  the  poor  by  means 
of  wealth,  he  also  reminds  that  this  is  not  done  by 
isolated  gifts,  but  by  active  association  in  giving.  The 
right  use  of  property  is  not  wholesale  almsgiving,  but  the 
application  of  a  man's  own  property  to  the  care  of  the 
community.^^ 

It  is  then  upon  the  community  that  Clement  lays  the 
greatest  weight.  "  God  led  the  race  of  man  to  brotherly 
community  by  giving  up  His  Son  and  bestowing  the 
Logos  as  a  common  benefit  on  all,  by  granting  all  to  all." 
Hence  everything  ought  to  be  common,  and  the  rich 
should  desire  to  have  no  more  than  the  poor.      The  say- 


CHAP,  n.]  FIRST  LOVE.  131 

ing,  "  I  possess  it,  why  should  I  not  enjoy  it  ?"  is  therefore 
not  humane  nor  brotherly.  "  I  possess  it,  why  should  I 
not  impart  it  ?"  sounds  more  like  Christian  love.  He 
who  so  speaks  and  acts  is  perfect,  and  fulfils  fhe 
command :  "  Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighl^our  as  thyself." 
"  I  know  that  God  has  given  us  the  right  of  enjoying,  but 
only  to  the  limits  of  the  necessary,  and  according  to  His 
will  enjoyment  must  be  common.  It  is  not  right  that 
one  should  live  in  superfluity,  while  many  are  in  want. 
And  how  much  better  is  it  to  be  a  benefactor  to  many, 
than  to  possess  a  splendid  house ;  how  much  wiser  to 
spend  one's  wealth  on  men  than  on  jewels  ! "  ^° 

Only  the  necessary  !  This  is  everywhere  accounted  a 
principle  in  the  use  of  earthly  possessions.  Simplicity, 
contentment,  moderation,  are  required  of  every  Christian. 
All  luxury,  all  wantonness  met  with  the  more  disfavour, 
the  more  the  surrounding  heathen  world  had  at  that  time 
sunk  into  an  immoderate  voluptuousness,  a  frequently 
senseless  luxury.  The  first  particular  by  which  a  woman 
who  had  become  a  Christian  was  distinguished  from  her 
former  female  friends,  was  her  simple  life  and  renuncia- 
tion of  luxurious  dress.  The  Christian  family  was 
distinguished  from  the  heathen  by  the  great  simplicity 
which  prevailed  in  furniture,  in  domestics,  in  eating  and 
drinking.  This  corresponded  with  the  earnestness  of 
Christian  life.  How  often  do  Clement  and  Tertullian 
insist  that  luxury  enervates,  that  it  is  womanly  and  not 
manly  !  '*  On  the  road  to  heaven,"  says  the  former,  "  the 
best  provision  is  frugality,  moderation  is  the  shoe,  and 
beneficence  the  staff."  ^^  In  his  Pcedagogus  he  gives 
numerous  injunctions  of  the  kind  respecting  even  the 
smallest  details,  and  they  all  amount  to  this,  that  a 
Christian  must  be  moderate  in  eating  and  drinking,  in 


132  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  n. 

clothing  and  furniture.  He  pities  the  insatiable,  who 
collect  their  dainties  from  all  parts  of  the  world,  with 
whom  "  the  basting  ladles  and  the  kitchen  form  the  central 
point  of  existence,"  ^^  who  "  emasculate  "  '  the  simplest 
aliments  by  the  over- refinement  of  their  cookery,  and 
eat  cakes  and  pastry  instead  of  nutritious  bread.  He 
does  not,  indeed,  desire  to  condemn  variety  of  dishes, 
but  says  that  no  special  eagerness  should  be  shown  for 
any  of  them.  So,  too,  he  regards  it  as  no  sin  to  drink 
wine,  but  reproves  the  luxury  which  is  practised  about 
different  kinds  of  wine.  No  one  should  be  eager  about 
Chian  wine  just  when  it  is  scarce,  or  about  Syracusan 
just  when  it  is  difficult  to  procure.  One  single  kind  of 
wine,  the  gift  of  the  one  God,  will  satisfy  a  prudent  drinker. 
So,  too,  should  moderation  be  observed  in  house-gear. 
All  such  things  as  polished  glass  vessels,  which  cannot 
be  drunk  out  of  without  fear  of  breaking  them,  silver 
plates  and  dishes,  and  all  things  made  of  ivory,  must  be 
far  removed  from  our  well-ordered  life.  The  Lord  also 
ate  out  of  an  ordinary  dish,  and  made  His  disciples  sit 
down  on  the  grass.  He,  the  humble  Lord  of  the  universe, 
washed  their  feet,  girded  with  a  towel.  He  brought  no 
silver  basin  from  heaven.  He  asked  drink  of  the 
Samaritan  woman,  who  came  to  draw  water  in  an  earthen 
pitcher,  and  desired  no  royal  gold.^^  We  cannot  escape 
the  admission  that  these  details  are  affected  with  a  certain 
amount  of  one-sidedness.  The  propensity  to  the  renun- 
ciation of  the  world  is  far  stronger  than  that  to  the 
appropriation  of  it.  Here  and  there  we  find  a  certain 
quaintness  in  this  zeal  against  luxury,  as  when  Tertullian 
can  suffer  no  wreaths,  because  God  made  flowers  grow, 
but  not  wreaths,  and  does  not  allow  dyed  wool,  because 
if  purple  wool  had  been  pleasing  to  God,  He  would  have 


CHAP,  n.]  FIRST  LOVE."  133 

made  purple -coloured  sheep  ;^*  or  when  Clement  goes 
on  to  say,  that  God  openly  supplies  all  that  is  necessary 
for  life,  but,  on  the  contrary,  conceals  things  unnecessary, 
such  as  gold  and  pearls  with  earth  and  sea.^^  Clement 
also  rejects  wreaths  because  they  are  unnatural,  we  can 
neither  see  nor  smell  the  flowers.  When  the  Lord  wore 
a  crown  of  thorns,  it  does  not  become  His  people  to 
crown  their  heads  with  wreaths.  They  know  of  a  better 
crown,  an  eternal  wreath.  At  the  most,  he  allows  orna- 
ments of  flowers  on  the  table.^^  All  this  sounds  some- 
what strange  to  us,  though  we  cannot  fail  to  admire  the 
earnestness  by  which  it  is  pervaded,  its  healthy  natural 
contrast  to  th^  luxury  of  the  age,  a  luxury  which  had 
degenerated  into  something  contrary  to  nature,  its  manly 
opposition  to  the  prevailing  effeminacy,  and  can  under- 
stand how,  in  churches  which  were  on  the  average  but 
poor,  there  was  never  a  lack  of  means  when  the  assist- 
ance of  oppressed  brethren  was  in  question.  Simplicity 
and  contentment  were,  to  quote  another  saying  of 
Clement's,  "  always  full  arsenals."  *^  "  The  love  which 
imparts  to  others  is  like  a  spring,  which  is  always 
furnishing  a  draught  to  the  thirsty,  and  yet  always  fills 
again."  28 

Very  specially  does  Clement  disapprove  of  the  keeping 
of  a  large  establishment  of  servants.  He  describes  in  one 
place,  and  not  without  biting  sarcasm?  the  life  of  the 
aristocratic  ladies  of  the  day.  There  is  no  spinning  or 
weaving  room,  no  work-room  for  women ;  they  are  sur- 
rounded by  men,  who  chatter  to  them  all  day  long  all 
manner  of  gossip,  and  relate  to  them  the  scandals  of  the 
town.  They  trifle  away  their  time  with  deformed  slaves, 
with  lap-dogs,  peacocks,  and  parrots.  Pnit  they  care  not 
for  the  poor  widow,  who  is  surely  worth  more  than  a 


134  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  n. 

Maltese  puppy ;  they  have  no  eyes  for  the  pious  old  man, 
who  is  certainly  of  greater  value  than  those  caricatures 
of  men ;  they  give  themselves  no  trouble  about  little 
children,  but  feed  parrots  and  plovers.  "They  turn  out 
their  own  children  and  take  young  birds  into  their 
houses." '^^  It  is  very  characteristic,  that  the  want  of 
deeds  of  charity  is  here  placed  in  connection  with  the 
dislike  of  work,  and  with  a  vain  and  empty  life,  as  on 
the  other  hand,  that  we  always  find,  both  in  Clement 
and  Tertullian,  when  describing  the  Christian  woman, 
the  combination  of  the  three  features  of  diligence,  sim- 
plicity, and  beneficence.  She  works  at  home,  slie  clothes 
herself,  her  husband,  and  her  children  in  garments  made 
by  herself;  she  works  in  the  kitchen  to  prepare  a  treat 
for  her  husband ;  she  is  not  ashamed  to  stand  herself  at 
the  hand-mill ;  and  then  she  stretches  out  her  hand  to  the 
poor,  bestows  upon  the  beggar  the  fruit  of  her  labour,  and, 
emulating  Sarah,  feels  no  shame  in  ministering  to  the 
traveller.  "  There  is  something  beautiful,"  cries  Clement, 
"  in  a  diligent  housewife.  There  is  joy  all  around  her. 
The  children  rejoice  in  their  mother,  the  husband  in  his 
wife,  she  herself  in  both,  and  all  together  in  God."  She 
is,  on  the  other  hand,  far  removed  from  a  vain  love  of 
finery.  "  The  handmaids  of  Christ  should  love  simplicity. 
Simplicity  is  the  forerunner  of  holiness.  It  smooths  out 
the  inequalities  of  property.  A  holy  ornament  sliould 
surround  your  wrists,  the  joy  of  giving  and  the  diligence 
of  the  housewife.  On  your  feet  should  glitter  untiring 
zeal  in  well-doing,  and  walking  in  the  ways  of  righteous- 
ness. Your  necklaces  and  chains  are  modesty  and 
simplicity.  Such  jewellery  comes  from  God's  work- 
shop."^" 

Of  work  we  find  but  little,  nay,  strikingly  little,  in  the 


CHAP,  n.]  FIKST  LOVE.  135 

Fathers.  Even  when  Clement  of  Eome  and  Barnabas 
state  in  detail  what  appertains  to  a  truly  Christian  life, 
work  is  omitted.  When,  however,  it  is  spoken  of,  we 
directly  feel  that  it  is  quite  differently  estimated  from 
what  it  was  in  the  heathen  world.  It  is  no  longer 
looked  on  as  a  disgrace.  Clement  of  Alexandria  repre- 
sents labour,  even  hard  labour  with  the  spade,^^  as 
something  which  is  an  honour  to  man.  That  on  the 
part  of  the  Church  there  was  earnest  exhortation  to 
labour,  is  shown  by  the  Apostolical  Constitutions.  These 
make  the  apostles  themselves  exhort  young  men :  "  Work 
with  self-restraint  at  your  handiwork,  that  you  may 
always  have  enough  for  yourselves  and  foj  the  poor,  and 
may  not  be  a  burden  to  the  Church  of  God.  Idleness 
is  a  disgrace,  and  he  who  will  not  work  among  us  must 
not  eat,  for  the  Lord  our  God  hates  idlers,  and  none 
must  be  idle  who  honours  God."^^  It  is  characteristic 
that  the  apostles  therein  bring  themselves  forward  as 
examples  of  labour,  a  sign  that  the  remembrance  of  the 
apostles,  the  remembrance  that  the  founders  of  the 
Church  had  themselves  been  working  men,  was  a  strong 
motive  to  industry.  It  was  just  this  side  of  apostolic 
life  that  tradition  had  carried  out  still  further.  We 
possess  an  old  catalogue  of  the  apostles,  in  which  some 
trade  or  occupation  is  ascribed  to  each  of  them.  I'eter, 
Andrew  and  the  sons  of  Zebedee  are  fishermen,  Philip 
an  ass-driver,  Bartholomew  a  vegetable  gardener,  James  the 
son  of  Alphseus  a  mason.^^  It  is  a  sign  of  the  high  respect 
entertained  for  labour,  that  the  Church  should  depict  these 
features,  or,  if  we  have  in  them  the  remains  of  a  true  tradi- 
tion, should  maintain  them.  It  also  testifies  to  the  high 
estimation  of  labour,  that  many  ecclesiastics  then  cariied  on, 
besides  their  ministrations  in  the  Church,  some  trade  or 


136  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  n. 

handiwork,  and  supported  tliemselves  by  it.  This  was 
not  considered  as  dishonouring  nor  inconsistent  with 
their  clerical  calling.  Even  after  the  time  of  Constantino 
the  occupations  of  clerics  were  so  extended,  that  the 
exemption  from  the  trade  tax  granted  them  by  Constan- 
tino was  revoked  by  subsequent  emperors,  because  the 
loss  of  revenue  was  too  great.  The  Apostolic  Constitutions 
also  enjoin  the  bishop  to  take  care  that  orphans  should 
learn  a  craft,  "  for  happy  is  he  who  can  help  himself,  that 
he  may  not  take  the  place  of  the  orphan,  the  stranger, 
and  the  widow.^^  Every  kind  of  work  was  considered 
honourable,  excej)t  such  as  ministered  to  heathen  worship, 
and  all  connected  therewith — the  theatre,  the  circus,  etc. 
He,  who  as  a  heathen  had  carried  on  such  an  occupa- 
tion, had  to  give  it  up  when  he  became  a  Christian. 
But  trade,  and  even  stockjobbing,  were  not  excluded. 
Callistus,  afterwards  a  bishop,  formerly  kept  a  money- 
changer's stall.^^ 

It  is  true  that  the  deeper  moral  appreciation  of  work, 
the  idea  of  the  vocation,  the  connection  of  the  earthly 
with  the  heavenly  calling,  had  not  yet  risen  upon  the 
Church.  The  motive  to  work  still  continues  to  be  only, 
that  a  man  may  thereby  support  himself  and  give  alms, 
may  help  others.  At  most  is  it  hinted,  as  in  Clement  of 
Alexandria,  that  it  is  manly  and  a  part  of  self-discipline 
to  work.  The  universal  duty  of  work,  the  importance  of 
the  work  of  any  calling,  as  a  test  of  our  Christian  life  and 
as  promoting  the  kingdom  of  God,  is  nowhere  expressed. 
Hence  the  Apostolic  Constitutions,  after  having  said  that 
no  Christian  should  wander  about  idly,  but  should  apply 
himself  to  his  work,  can  only  say  of  the  rich,  that  they 
ought  to  visit  believers  and  hold  pious  conversation  with 
them.^^     Nevertheless,  work  and  benevolence  are,  in  con- 


CHAP,  n.]  FIRST  LOVE.  137 

formity  with  New  Testament  thoughts,  most  intimately 
connected,  nay,  it  may  be  said  they  were  never  so 
intimately  connected  as  then.  There  were  not  many  of 
the  rich  who  could  give  of  their  superfluity  in  the 
churches.  The  largest  quantity  of  alms  and  contributions 
to  the  Church's  labour  of  love,  came  from  those  who  had 
to  earn  their  daily  bread  by  the  sweat  of  their  brow. 
This  is  undoiibtedly  one  of  the  reasons  why  charity  was 
then  so  greatly  blessed.  "What  is  easily  parted  witli  from 
superfluity  and  given  without  sacrifice,  is  also  easily 
taken  and  easily  lavished.  But  where  what  has  been 
given  has  been  laboured  for,  care  that  the  gift  is  rightly 
applied  accompanies  it,  and  a  blessing  rests  upon  it. 
This  is  among  the  traits,  which  bestow  upon  the  charity 
of  the  period  its  peculiar  character. 

Finally,  and  this  feature  of  the  Christian  life  should 
be  specially  noted,  since,  more  than  anything  as  yet  re- 
marked upon,  it  is  specially  distinctive  of  the  charity  of 
this  age.  Christian  life  is  as  yet  thoroughly  congregational. 
The  connection  of  the  Christian  community  was  closer 
and  more  intimate  than  ever  again.  The  individual 
Christian  lived  entirely  in  and  for  the  Clmrch.  The 
churches  were  still  small  and  like  a  family  ;  each  Christian 
knew  all  others.  Even  Cyprian  in  a  town  like  Carthage 
knew  all  the  members  of  the  church.^^  When  Marcia, 
the  mistress  of  Commodus,  was  about  to  apply  to  him  for 
the  Eomish  Christians  imprisoned  in  the  mines,  she  asked, 
and  Victor  the  bishop  told  her,  all  their  names.^^  The 
churches  still  consisted  in  an  overwhelming  majority  of 
living  members,  of  those  who,  with  full  conviction  and 
free  choice,  had  taken  the  step  of  uniting  themselves  to 
the  Church,  and  who  were  thoroughly  in  earnest  in  their 
Christianity.      They  were  as  yet  unencumbered  by  the 


138  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  n. 

dead  weight  of  an  indifferent  multitude.  Nor  had  the 
notion  as  yet  obtained,  that  a  perfect  Christian  life  could 
only  be  led  in  separation  from  the  ordinary  congregation, 
that  this  contained  only  imperfect  Christians,  while  the 
perfect  led  their  separate  lives  apart  in  monasteries  or  in 
the  desert.  The  more  abrupt  the  external  severance  from 
all  non-Christians,  the  closer  was  the  connection  of  those 
who  knew  themselves  to  be  united  by  faith  to  the  one 
Lord.  Discipline  was  strict,  but  it  verified  the  saying : 
.  That  which  excludes  also  the  more  energetically  includes. 
The  distress  of  the  times,  the  common  suffering,  bound 
them  only  the  more  closely  together.  How  must  these 
churches  have  kept  together  in  the  conflict,  how  must 
each  persecution  have  contributed  to  weld  them  into  a 
solid  whole  !  If  Christians  called  themselves  brothers 
and  sisters,  they  were  so  indeed,  and  the  kiss  of  peace, 
"which  was  given  before  the  celebration  of  the  Holy 
Supper,  was  no  empty  symbol.  Correspondingly  with 
this,  charity  also  was  congregational.  The  individual 
gave  to  the  Church  what  love  impelled  him  to  bestow ; 
gifts  were  collected  for  the  poor  in  the  meetings  of  the 
Church,  at  public  worship  and  at  the  Lord's  Supper ;  the 
officers  of  the  Church  dispensed  them.  The  relief  of  the 
poor  by  the  Church  is  the  special  characteristic  of  the 
charity  of  this  age. 

This  did  not  exclude  a  liberal  abundance  of  private 
benevolence.  "  Our  compassion  gives  more  in  the  streets 
than  your  religion  does  in  the  temples,"  says  Tertullian  ;^^ 
and  we  onl}'-  need  to  read  the  description  Mdiich  he  gives 
of  the  charity  of  a  Christian  woman,  as  she  goes  from 
stijeet  to  street,  even  into  the  poorest  hovels,  how  she 
receives  the  stranger  brother  into  her  house,  and  opens 
kitchen  and  cellar  to  provide  for  him,  to  be  convinced, 


CHAP,  n.]  FIRST  LOVE.  139 

that  there  was  certainly  no  lack  of  such  private  charity, 
of  personal  almsgiving  and  the  rendering  of  personal 
service.  Nor  was  there  yet  any  kind  of  effort  to  narrow 
this  private  benevolence,  and  to  place  all  charity,  in  a 
onesided  manner,  under  the  immediate  direction  of  the 
Cimrch  and  its  officers.  The  first  traces  of  this  are  not 
apparent  till  the  end  of  this  period.  According  to  the 
Apostolic  Constitutions,  the  individual  member  of  the 
Church,  who  desires  to  relieve  the  poor,  is  to  apply  in  the 
first  place  to  the  deacons,  for  they  know  the  poor;  the 
deacons  are  also  to  be  the  managers  when  any  one 
proposes  to  prepare  a  love -feast  for  the  poor.^'^  Nay,  they 
even  express  the  notion,  that  the  bishop  is  the  mediator 
between  God  and  the  poor.  "  It  is  fit  that  thou  (the 
member  of  the  Church)  shouldst  give,  and  that  he  (the 
bishop)  should  dispense."  ^^  But  even  when  such  restric- 
tion and  guardianship  of  private  benevolence  was  not 
yet  thought  of,  charity  nevertheless  found  its  centre  of 
gravity  not  in  the  latter,  but  in  the  relief  administered  by 
the  Church.  This  is  the  special  cliaracteristic  of  the 
times.  It  certainly  continued  also,  nay,  was  still  more 
conspicuously  developed,  during  the  period  next  ensuing, 
the  times  after  the  triumph  of  Christianity.  It  was 
then,  however,  already  accompanied  by  anotlier  element, 
viz.  the  institutional.  For,  while  the  churches  had 
hitherto  been  entirely  relegated  to  their  own  resources, 
the  now  Christian  State  asserted  itself  as  a  joint  factor  in 
deciding;  and  both  these  circumstances  contributed  to 
alter  and  to  deteriorate  the  character  of  Church  aid  to  tlie 
poor.  In  the  Middle  Ages  it  entirely  disappears,  and  in 
its  place  we  find,  on  the  one  side,  private  benevolence 
broken  into  endless  fragments,  a  wholesale  almsgiving, 
which  properly  scarcely  deserves  the  name  of  relief  of  tlie 


140         CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHUKCH.      [book  n. 

poor ;  on  the  other,  the  agency  of  the  orders  in  hospitals, 
monasteries,  till  at  last,  in  the  times  of  the  Eeformation, 
the  notion  of  the  relief  of  the  poor  by  the  Church  was 
again  brought  efficiently  forward,  and  its  restoration  was 
striven  for  under  entirely  different  circumstances. 

It  is  this  care  of  the  poor  by  the  Church  that  we  shall 
specially  have  to  discuss,  for  private  benevolence  with- 
draws by  its  very  nature  from  observation  and  exhibition. 
It  is  a  picture  full  of  light  that  we  have  to  sketch.  It 
is  like  a  sunny  morning,  on  which  indeed  the  clouds  that 
will  afterwards  obscure  the  sun  are  already  appearing  on 
the  horizon.  It  is  the  time  of  first  love,  which  passes 
away,  and  must  do  so^  Youth  cannot  last  for  ever, 
either  in  the  Church  or  in  an  individual.  If  the  charity 
of  this  heroic  age  of  the  Church,  as  well  as  Christian  life 
in  general,  is  comparatively  purest  and  fairest,  the  germs 
and  beginnings  of  the  subsequent  corruption  are  also 
latent  in  this  same  age. 


CHAPTER    III. 

THE  MEANS  FOE  THE  RELIEF  OF  THE  POOE. 

Even  the  collection  of  alms  for  the  relief  of  the  poor  is 
in  closest  connection  with  Church  life,  is  an  act  of  this 
Cliurch  life  itself.  It  takes  place  in  the  assemblies  of  the 
Church,  and  it  is  in  his  contribution  to  these  collections 
that  the  individual  testifies  his  membership  therein. 
There  were,  however,  in  such  collections,  gifts  of  two 
kinds,  the  one  of  which  answers  rather  io  Church  life  on 
its  legal  side,  the  other  to  its  public  worship  of  God. 
This  distinction  has  hitherto  been  not,  or  at  least  not 
sufficiently,  regarded,  a  circumstance  evidently  connected 
with  the  fact,  that  only  very  recently  has  the  relation  of 
the  Christian  churches  to  the  Eomish  collegia  been  clearly 
perceived.^  According  to  its  legal  form,  the  Ghurch 
appears  as  a  collegium,  very  much  resembling  the  legally 
allowed  collegia  of  the  poor  (collegia  Uimiorum),  and 
Christians  had  undoubtedly  cause  for  giving  prominence 
to,  nay,  insisting  on,  this  similarity,  because  it  aff"or(Ied 
them,  at  least  in  the  more  peaceful  times,  and  before 
systematic  persecutions  began,  a  certain  legal  protection. 
Now,  as  we  before  saw,  these  collegia  were  allowed  to 
collect  contributions  for  their  social  purposes,  though 
with  this  limitation,  that  only  one  collection  per  month 
was  allowed.  Thus,  too,  did  the  members  of  the  Christian 
churches  give  in  every  month  their  contributions  to  tlie 

141 


142  CHEISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  ii. 

church  chest ;  and  Tertullian  designates  these  contributions 
stips,the  very  same  name  which  they  bore  in  tlie  collegia, and 
the  church  chest  area,  as  was  then  also  customary.  There 
was  indeed  this  essential  distinction,  that  the  members  of 
the  collegia  were  obliged  to  pay  a  certain  sum,  while 
Christians  were  quite  free  to  choose  whether  and  how 
much  they  would  put  into  the  area.  "  Every  one  deposits 
a  moderate  contribution  monthly,  if  he  chooses  and  if  he 
can,  for  no  one  is  forced,  but  each  contributes  voluntarily," 
says  Tertullian,  and  adds  concerning  the  application  of 
the  contributions :  "  It  is,  so  to  speak,  a  depositum  of 
piety.  For  it  is  not  applied  to  feasts  and  drinking  bouts 
(as  was  the  custom  with  the  collegia),  but  to  the  support 
or  the  interment  of  the  poor,  the  bringing  up  of  boys  and 
girls  who  have  neither  property  nor  parents,  the  relief  of 
the  aged,  the  shipwrecked,  and  those  who  are  in  mines, 
in  prisons,  or  in  exile."  ^  Similarly  Justin  Martyr : 
"  Those  who  are  able,  and  desire  to  do  so,  give  of  their 
free  will  as  much  as  they  choose.  What  is  collected  is 
deposited  with  the  president,  and  with  it  he  supports  the 
widows  and  orphans,  and  those  who  through  sickness  or 
any  other  cause  are  in  want,  assists  prisoners  and  strangers, 
and  provides  for  the  needy  in  general."  He  is  not  here 
speaking  of  the  gifts  offered  at  the  Lord's  Supper,  the 
oblations,  but  of  the  voluntary  contributions  of  the  Church,^ 
which  Cyprian  also  decidedly  distinguishes  from  the  obla- 
tions.* The  two  were  originally  offered  in  quite  different 
assemblies,  the  oblations  at  the  celebration  of  the  Lord's 
Supper,  the  slips  at  morning  worship.  In  Cyprian  the 
church  chest  is  not  called  a?'ra,  as  in  Tertullian,  but 
corhona.  It  is  also  thus  designated  in  the  Apostolical 
Constitutions.^  And  this  is  not  without  significance. 
The  name  corhona  is  derived  from  the  Jewish  worship 


CHAP,  m.]  MEANS  FOR  RELIEF  OF  THE  POOR.  143 

(comp.  Mark  vii.  11),  and  its  employment  is  a  sign,  that 
the  likeness  between  the  assemblies  of  the  Christian 
Chi;rch  and  the  collegia  was  already  beginning  to  be  lost 
sight  of,  and  giving  way  to  Old  Testament  Jewish  models. 
The  analogy  with  the  meetings  of  the  collegia  recedes 
also  in  the  circumstance,  that  contributions  were  after- 
wards made,  not  monthly,  but  on  the  first  day  of  every 
week.  Cyprian  reproves  those  who,  when  they  attend 
public  worship,  disregard  the  corban,  with  desecrating  the 
Sunday.  Similarly  do  the  Apostolic  Constitutions  regard 
it  as  among  the  duties  of  a  Christian  to  put  something 
into  the  corban  every  Sunday.^  It  seems,  however,  that 
only  smaller  sums  were  at  that  time  put  into  the  corhan, 
and  that  larger  gifts  had  assumed  another  form.  The 
corban  had  then  already  forfeited  the  character  of  church 
chest.  This  latter  had  become  the  fund  of  the  poor, 
and  as  such  remained  in  the  Church,  to  give  every  one 
who  entered  the  house  of  God  the  opportunity  of  also 
thinking  of  the  poor. 

More  important  than  the  deposits  in  the  corban,  at 
least  more  significant  with  respect  to  the  development  of 
charity,  are  the  gifts  of  natural  produce,  the  so-called 
oblations,  connected  with  the  celebration  of  the  Lord's 
Supper.  If  the  contributions  hitherto  discussed  mani- 
fested that  the  giver  was  a  member  of  the  flock,  the 
custom  of  oblations  most  closely  connected  the  giving  of 
alms  with  the  highest  act  of  worship,  brought  forward 
gratitude  to  God  as  the  motive  of  giving,  and,  which  is 
specially  important,  gave  prominence  to  the  sacrificial 
character  of  the  gift. 

The  custom  of  offering  gifts  at  the  celebration  of  the 
Lord's  Supper  is  evidently  connected  with  tlie  original 
form  of  this  solemnity.     This  formed  no  part  of  morning 


144         CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  II. 

worship,  but  was  joined  to  an  evening  meal  partaken  of 
in  common.  It  is  thus  that  we  meet  with  it  in  the  days 
of  the  apostles,  and  this  seems  to  have  remained  the 
general  custom  down  to  the  beginning  of  the  second 
century.  Then,  however,  the  celebration  of  the  Lord's 
Supper  was  separated  from  the  common  meal,  and  trans- 
ferred to  the  morning  service,^  while  the  evening  meals 
continued  at  first  still  as  love-feasts  {Agapce)  of  the 
whole  Church,  and  afterwards  as  meals  prepared  for  its 
poorer  members.  To  these  meals  every  member  of  the 
Church  contributed  according  to  his  ability,  and  this 
custom  continued  even  when  the  celebration  of  the  Lord's 
Supper  was  transferred  to  the  morning  service.  At  its 
commencement  the  members  of  the  Church  brought 
natural  productions,  which  were  collected  by  the  deacons. 
Of  these,  what  was  required  for  the  Holy  Supper  was 
placed  upon  the  altar,  the  rest  was  applied  partly  to  the 
maintenance  of  church  officers,  partly  to  the  relief  of  the 
poor.  A  thanksgiving,  expressing  gratitude  for  the  gifts 
of  the  first  as  well  as  of  the  second  creation,  was  then 
pronounced  over  the  gifts.  For  believers  offered  these 
gifts  to  God  as  the  first-fruits  of  the  creatures  (primitice 
creaturum),  and  at  the  celebration  a  portion  of  these  gifts 
were  to  be  the  vehicles  of  the  gifts  of  the  second  creation.^ 
At  the  same  time,  those  who  had  presented  the  oblations 
were  mentioned  by  name  in  the  prayer.  The  prayer  in 
question,  which  we  find  in  almost  the  same  form  in  all 
the  older  liturgies,®  and  which  may  therefore  be  regarded 
as  a  component  part  of  the  liturgy  of  this  period,  runs 
thus :  "  And,  0  Lord,  accept  also  the  offerings  of  those 
who  to-day  bring  an  offering,  as  Thou  didst  accept  the 
offering  of  righteous  Abel,  the  offering  of  our  father 
Abraham,  the  incense  of  Zachariah,  the  alms  of  Cornelius, 


CHAP,  m.]  MEANS  FOK  RELIEF  OF  THE  POOB.  146 

and  the  two  mites  of  the  widow ;  accept  also  their  thank- 
offering,  and  give  them  back  the  eternal  for  the  temporal, 
the  heavenly  for  the  earthly."  Then  followed  the  prayer 
of  consecration  and  the  distribution  of  the  holy  bread 
and  wine. 

The  gifts  offered,  at  first  by  no  means  consisted  merely 
of  the  bread  and  wine  needed  for  the  Lord's  Supper,  but 
of  natural  products  of  every  kind.  This  may  be  inferred 
from  the  fact  that,  at  the  beginning  of  the  fourth  century, 
a  series  of  resolutions  was  passed  in  Councils  to  restrict 
the  oblations  to  bread  and  wine.  Milk,  honey  and  oil, 
which  were  also  required  in  worship,  were  only  allowable 
on  certain  days.^"  Gifts  of  natural  products  of  another 
kind  did  not,  however,  therefore  cease ;  they  were  only 
no  longer  treated  as  oblations  properly  so  called,  no 
longer  laid  upon  the  altar  and  blessed,  but  brought 
without  benediction  into  the  bishop's  house,  or  if  church- 
buildings  already  existed,  into  the  place  appointed  for 
their  reception,  one  of  the  cells  at  the  east  end  of  the 
church,  the  so-called  Pastophorium  or  Gazophylacium.^^ 

These  oblations  then,  in  the  narrower  and  wider  sense, 
formed  during  this  period  the  special  and  chief  means 
for  the  relief  of  the  poor.  They  were  supplemented  by 
other  gifts  and  collections  when  a  special  need  made 
special  efforts  requisite.  This  is  highly  significant  with 
respect  to  the  whole  charity  of  this  period,  nay,  it  may  be 
said  that  herein  is  its  character  most  strikingly  manifested. 
Herein  is  disclosed  to  us  its  full  beauty  and  purity,  but 
herein  too  we  have  already  occasion  to  observe  the  points 
on  which  the  subsequent,  but  now  already  commencing 
corruption  fastened. 

There  is  significance  even  in  the  fact,  that  almsgiving 
took  place  in  public  worship,  nay  itself  formed  a  part  of 

E 


146  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.      [book  n. 

worship.  The  Church  moved  quite  on  New  Testament 
lines,  and  verified  the  saying  of  St.  James :  "  Pure  and 
un'defiled  worship  is  to  visit  the  fatherless  and  widows 
in  their  affliction  "  (i.  2  7),  and  that  of  the  Epistle  to  the ' 
Hebrews :  "  To  do  good  and  to  communicate  forget  not, 
for  with  such  sacrifices  God  is  well  pleased."  Where  the 
Church  learnt  of  the  highest  love,  the  love  of  Christ,  who 
died  for  His  people  and  feeds  them  with  His  body  and 
blood,  there  love  was  not  merely  preached  about,  extolled 
and  inculcated,  but  also  practised,  and  there  too  it  was 
not  merely  symbolically  represented,  but  an  act  of  love 
was  actually  performed,  tlie  act  of  giving  to  the  poor  and 
needy.  The  Christian,  too,  did  not  approach  without  a 
gift  the  altar,  where  he  was  to  partake  of  the  results  of 
Christ's  sacrifice.  He  showed  his  gratitude  for  all  God's 
gifts  in  creation  and  redemption  by  offering  a  portion  of 
these  gifts  for  the  good  of  the  poor.  It  was  just  at  the 
altar,  where  all  the  members  of  the  Church,  both  rich  and 
poor,  know  themselves  to  be  one  in  the  one  Lord,  that  the 
equalization  of  property  between  rich  and  poor  by  giving 
and  receiving  also  took  place  in  love. 

Hereby  were  rich  and  poor  in  the  first  place  brought 
into  the  right  position  towards  each  other.  The  rich 
gave  what  he  gave  to  God,  and  the  poor  received  what 
he  received  from  God.  Thus  the  temptation  of  the  rich 
to  exalt  themselves  above  the  poor,  and  the  humiliation 
of  the  poor  at  being  obliged  to  receive  assistance  from 
others,  were  removed,  while  at  the  same  time  discontent 
and  murmuring,  as  well  as  insolent  demands  and  pre- 
sumptuous requests,  were  done  away  with.  The  rich 
became  conscious  that  he  only  gave  back  to  God  what  he 
had  first  received.  The  poor  became  conscious,  that  the 
same  God,  who  had  imparted  to  himself  a  smaller  measure 


CHAP,  m]  MEANS  FOE  EELIEF  OF  THE  POOR.  147 

of  earthly  goods,  yet  took  care  that  he  should  not  suffer 
want.  It  was  no  longer  a  disgrace  to  be  poor  and  to 
receive  assistance  from  the  Church.  The  poor,  like  the 
officers  of  the  Church,  lived  of  the  altar ;  nay,  to  apply 
to  the  poor  in  general  a  much  used  expression  in  the 
Epistle  of  Polycarp,  with  respect  to  widows,  they  were 
themselves  "  the  altar  of  the  Church  "  ^^  on  which  it 
deposits  its  offerings.  Such  gifts  had  not  the  effect,  so 
often  occurring  in  other  instances,  of  separating  between 
rich  and  poor  by  increasing  and  rendering  still  more 
prominent  the  chasm  existing  between  tliem,  but  were 
a  bond  which  united  them  in  God,  by  making  them 
conscious  of  their  oneness  in  the  one  Lord.  And  the 
more  so  that  the  gifts  were  accompanied  by  prayer. 
From  the  very  first  the  Church  has  specially  remembered 
the  poor  in  prayer,  the  whole  congregation  praying  for 
its  needy  and  suffering  members.  Even  in  the  oldest 
form  of  Church  prayer,  as  found  in  the  Epistle  of  Clement 
of  Eome,^^  we  meet  M'ith  intercessions  for  the  poor,  the 
hungry,  the  distressed,  and  subsequently  widows  and 
orphans  are  in  the  Church  prayers  placed  next  after 
Church  officers.^*  On  the  other  side  the  poor  pray  also 
for  the  rich,  for,  as  above  remarked,  those  who  brought 
gifts  were  remembered  in  the  prayers  of  the  Church.  It 
is  a  beautiful  trait,  too,  that  they  also  are  remembered 
who  would  give  but  cannot,  in  whom  therefore  the 
disposition  of  love  exists,  but  who  lack  the  means  of 
changing  the  disposition  into  the  act.  In  the  eyes  of  tlie 
Church  they  are  of  equal  value  with  those  who  actually 
give,  for  she  prays  "  for  those  who  give  secretly  and  those 
who  give  openly,  for  those  who  give  much  and  those  who 
give  little,  and  also  for  those  who  would  give  and 
cannot."  ^^     The  poor  is  not  even  to  have  the  annoyance 


148  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  n. 

of  feelingi  that  the  rich  surpass  him  at  least  in  being 
able  to  give,  and  that  they  only,  are  remembered  in 
prayer.  If  the  poor  has  but  his  heart  full  of  love,  he 
too  is  remembered  in  prayer  among  the  givers. 

Thus  was  perfect  liberty  of  giving  inculcated,  and  the 
purity  of  the  gift  at  the  same  time  secured  and  main- 
tained. No  one  was  in  any  way  constrained  to  give,  and 
this  principle  was  still  most  emphatically  insisted  on. 
As  each  participated  without  compulsion  in  the  Lord's 
Supper,  so  too  did  he  without  compulsion  offer  his  gifts. 
The  freedom  of  the  gifts  cannot  be  made  more  strongly 
apparent  than  by  the  fact,  that  it  is  made  where  fullest 
liberty  prevails,  viz.  at  the  altar.  Thus  too  it  is  precisely 
in  the  oblations  that  Irenteus '"  perceives  this  freedom. 
He  goes  on  to  say  that  sacrifices  are  not  absolutely 
abolished  in  the  New  Testament  though  their  form  is 
indeed  altered,  because  they  are  no  longer  offered  by 
slaves  but  by  freemen,  of  which  just  the  oblations  are  the 
pr©of.  The  Jews  gave  tithes ;  Christians,  as  those  who 
have  obtained  freedom,  "  gladly  and  freely  give  all  that 
they  have  for  the  Lord's  service."  ^^  The  Church  indeed 
exhorts  to  giving,  warns  also  and  rebukes  the  sluggish, 
but  she  receives  only  perfectly  free  gifts.  She  takes 
only  such  as  can  be  given  with  a  good  conscience.  No 
unclean  gift  may  be  laid  upon  the  Lord's  altar.  Profit 
made  from  sinful  occupations  was  not  accepted  as  an 
oblation,  neither  were  the  oblations  of  impenitent  sinners. 
The  right  of  presenting  oblations  was  a  direct  expression 
for  being  in  the  communion  of  the  Church.  Heretics  and 
excommunicated  persons  could  bring  no  oblation.^^  "  It 
is  better  to  die  of  want,  than  to  receive  gifts  from  the 
ungodly  and  the  wicked,"  say  the  Apostlic  Constitutions. 
If  such  gifts  are  received  ignorantly  and  unintentionally, 


CHAP,  ra.]  MEANS  FOR  EELIEF  OF  THE  POOE.  149 

they  should  be  used  for  fuel,  for  it  is  fitting  that  fire 
should  consume  the  gifts  of  the  ungodly.^''  When 
Marcion,  the  well-known  Gnostic,  seceded  from  the 
Church,  the  200  HS.  which  he  had  presented  were 
returned  to  him.^^  The  concern  of  the  Cliurch  was  not 
for  the  amount  of  the  gifts,  but  for  the  love  shown 
thereby,  for  she  knew  that  love  is  truly  a  vital  force,  and 
that  much  love  with  even  small  gifts  can  effect  more 
than  great  gifts  without  love.  This  was  the  reason  she 
watched  with  such  jealousy  over  the  purity  of  the  gifts, 
and  of  this  jealousy  even  the  above-mentioned  unusual 
decision  of  the  Apostolical  Constitutions  is  a  proof 

But  above  all  is  it  significant  that  alms  sliould  be 
viewed  as  sacrifices  and  given  as  sacrifices.  Herein  too 
does  the  ancient  Church  directly  follow  the  New  Testa- 
ment. This  thought  is  excellently  developed  in  Justin 
Martyr.^^  To  the  heathen  the  Christians,  who  had 
neither  temples  nor  images,  and  offered  no  sacrifices, 
appeared  to  be  godless.  Justin  is  defending  the  Chris- 
tians against  such  a  supposition.  He  shows  that  they 
worship  the  true  and  living  God  and  serve  Him.  It  is 
true,  that  they  bring  Him  no  such  sacrifices  as  the 
heathen,  who  burn  in  the  fire  what  God  has  appointed 
for  food,  but  they  are  taught  to  regard  as  saci'ifices 
whatever  they  partake  of  with  thanks  or  bestow  upon 
the  needy.  We  meet  with  exactly  the  same  thoughts  in 
Irena3us.  According  to  Irenseus,  God  did  not  prescribe 
sacrifices  to  the  Jews  for  His  own  sake,  because  He 
stood  in  need  of  them,  but  for  their  sakes  for  ptedagogic 
ends.  So  too  has  God  enjoined  on  us  Christians  the 
sacrifice  of  oblations,  not  because  He  needs  them,  but 
that  we  may  not  be  unfruitful  and  unthankful.  And 
the  thought  that  these  sacrifices  are  thankofferiugs  ^'  is 


150  CHKISTIAN  CHAllITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHUKCH.       [boOK  n. 

again  and  again  brought  into  the  foreground  in  Ireneeus. 
Clement  of  Alexandria  ^^  also  moves  in  the  same  circle  of 
thought.  The  whole  life  of  a  Christian  is  a  festival,  a 
continuous  sacrifice,  and  this  sacrifice  consists  on  the  one 
side  in  prayer  and  thanksgiving,  on  the  other  in  imparting 
of  his  substance  to  the  needy. 

In  Tertullian,  however,  a  suspicious  change  is  already 
apparent  in  this  ancient  Christian  circle  of  ideas.  He 
still  adheres  indeed  to  the  ancient  view,  in  not  yet 
applying  the  notion  of  sacrifice  to  the  body  and  blood  of 
Christ ;  these  are  partaken  of,  not  offered.  The  gifts 
presented  are  the  only  sacrifice.^^  But  the  character  of 
this  sacrifice  as  a  thaukoffering  is  obscured,  it  becomes 
instead  a  matter  of  works,  and  acquires  thereby  a  meri- 
torious character.  It  is  a  plain  sign  of  this,  that  oblations 
were  now  brought  also  for  the  dead.  The  husband 
offered  yearly  for  his  departed  wife,  the  wife  for  her 
husband.''^  In  Cyprian,  "  offering  for  every  one "  is 
already  the  general  custom,  and  it  was  a  part  of  Church 
discipline  to  refuse  permission  to  make  offerings  for  a 
person  deceased.  Thus  Cyprian  forbids  offerings  being 
brought  for  a  late  member  of  the  Church,  because  the 
deceased  had,  contrary  to  the  order  of  the  Church,  chosen 
an  ecclesiastic  as  guardian.^"  It  is  true  that  this  custom 
of  offering  oblations  for  the  dead  grew  out  of  the  thought 
of  communion  in  love  and  prayer  with  the  departed. 
Death  does  not  separate  the  departed  from  the  Church, 
they  still  belong  to  it,  for  it  is  the  one  Church  of  both 
perfected  and  still  militant  Christians.  Cyprian  plainly 
expresses  this  thought :  "  We  tliink  of  each  other,  and 
even  with  respect  to  the  departed,  our  love  for  them  in 
the  Lord  still  continues."  ^'  "  Not  merely  the  high  priest, 
but  also  the  souls  of  the  departed  pray  with  us,"  says 


CHAP,  m.]  MEANS  FOR  KELIEF  OF  THE  POOR.  151 

Origen,  and  refers  to  the  love  which  unites  the  departed 
and  the  living.  But  another  thought  is  soon  mingled 
with  this,  and  then  becomes  the  chief  notion.  While  the 
offering  of  the  oblation  had  been  hitherto  an  act  of 
thanksgiving,  followed  quite  simply  by  the  mention  of 
those  members  of  the  Church  who  offered  it,  with  the 
intention  that  the  offerers  should  be  named  before  God, 
this  mention  in  the  intercessory  prayer  at  the  Lord's 
Supper  next  became  the  special  end  of  the  oblation.  It 
was  brought  for  the  purpose  of  obtaining  the  intercession 
to  which,  as  made  in  this  place  and  at  this  transaction, 
special  efficacy  was  attributed.  For  this  reason  too  it 
was  brought  for  the  dead,  that  the  intercession  miglit 
apply  to  them  also.  The  husband  offered  for  his 
deceased  wife  on  the  anniversary  of  her  departure,  says 
Tertullian,  "  to  procure  for  her  eternal  repose  and  a  share 
in  the  first  resurrection."^  These  are  the  first  beginnings 
of  a  custom,  which  was  subsequently  much  further 
developed  by  the  doctrine  of  purgatory,  and  which 
became  in  the  Middle  Ages  a  main  lever  of  charity,  nay 
in  a  certain  sense  the  centre  round  which  it  revolved. 
Even  the  other  custom  mentioned  by  Tertullian,  that 
custom  so  excellent  in  itself,  for  the  newly  married  to  offer 
a  common  oblation  on  the  succeeding  Sunday,  partakes  of 
this  notion.^^  The  oblation  was  to  procure  the  interces- 
sion of  the  Church  for  the  newly  married  pair.  From  a 
thankoffering,  the  oblation  had  become  a  work  performed 
for  the  obtaining  of  grace. 

But  the  thoughts  originally  connected  with  the  obla- 
tions were  also  obscured  in  another  aspect.  While 
Tertullian  still  entirely  adheres  to  the  old  view,  that  the 
presentation  of  the  oblations  is  itself  the  thankoffering  of 
the  Church,  the  presentation  of  the  body  and  blood  of 


152  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  It. 

Christ  by  means  of  the  priest  becomes  after  Cyprian  the 
proper  offering.  Of  course  tliis  could  not  but  react  upon 
the  manner  in  which  the  oblations  were  regarded.  If 
these  had  formerly  been  the  common  thankoffering  of 
the  Church,  the  symbolical  expression  of  the  offering  of 
the  heart  accompanying  prayer,  they  now  became  an  offer- 
ing of  alms.  This  change  of  import  is  plainly  testified 
by  the  position  taken  in  the  liturgy  by  the  brotherly  kiss. 
This  was  formerly  given  before  the  oblations,  these  being 
the  proper  offering.  Now  it  was  given  after  the  oblation, 
for  not  these  but  the  priestly  presentation  of  the  body 
and  blood  of  Christ,  had  become  the  offering  proper.^ 

As  the  original  view  of  the  oblations  as  a  thank- 
offering  more  and  more  recedes,  the  offering  of  alms 
becomes  increasingly  looked  upon  as  a  meritorious  act. 
It  is  especially  Origen  who  thus  regards  it.  The  first 
forgiveness  of  sins  is  obtained  by  baptism,  the  second  by 
martyrdom,  the  third  is  that  which  is  procured  by  alms- 
giving. For  the  Saviour  says :  "  Give  alms,  and  all 
things  are  clean  unto  you."  ^^  Similarly  does  Cyprian 
regard  the  offering  of  alms  as  the  means  given  to  man 
for  obtaining  the  remission  of  even  post-baptismal  sins.^^ 
The  relation  too  of  alms  to  prayer  now  becomes  changed. 
Prayer  and  alms  from  the  beginning  always  accompanied 
each  other,  as  Scripture  had  already  combined  them. 
They  form  together  the  outward  expression  of  the  inward 
sacrifice  of  the  heart.  Now,  however,  alms  are  regarded 
as  giving  efficacy  to  prayer.  Without  alms  prayer  is 
unfruitful,  it  is  alms  that  make  it  bear  fruit,  because 
they  dispose  God  to  kindness  and  indulgence.  "  For," 
explains  Cyprian,  "  He  who  will  at  the  day  of  judgment 
reward  alms  and  good  works,  listens  more  graciously  even 
to-day  to  a  prayer,  if  it  is  accompanied  by  alms."  ^^     "  A 


CHAP,  m.]  MEANS  FOR  RELIEF  OF  THE  POOK.  153 

prayer  is  good  when  accompanied  by  fasting  and  alms."  ^ 
We  have  here  then  already  the  three  good  works,  which 
henceforth  are  more  and  more  regarded  as  properly 
speaking  good  and  meritorious :  prayer,  fasting,  and 
almsgiving.  The  original  thought,  so  well  brought  out 
by  Irenseus  and  Justin,  that  the  oblations  and  other  alms 
are  a  thankoffering,  is  choked,  and  alms  have  already 
become  a  propitiatory  and  meritorious  work. 

The  proceeds  of  the  fund  for  the  poor  and  of  the 
oblations  formed  at  this  time  the  chief,  and  as  a  rule  the 
sufficient  means  for  relieving  the  poor,  for  Church  pro- 
perty with  any  considerable  returns  did  not  as  yet  exist. 
The  accumulation  of  permanent  Church  property,  at  least 
the  acquisition  of  estates,  begins  to  occur  indeed  in  the 
last  times  of  the  conflict,  but  the  possessions  of  the 
Church  were  still  at  any  rate  very  inconsideraljle.  If 
the  ordinary  means  did  not  suffice,  or  if  some  special 
need  required  special  resources,  these  were  obtained  by  a 
collection,  a  way  of  gathering  money  not  unknown  to  the 
heathen,  who  very  often  obtained  funds  for  a  statue,  a 
monument,  the  building  of  a  bridge  or  the  restoration  of 
a  temple,  by  collecting  contributions.^'^  Tertullian  ""^  men- 
tions such  collections,  and  the  Apostolic  Constitutions 
enjoin  them  on  the  bishop.  "  If  the  gifts  (the  oljlations) 
are  not  sufficient,  tell  the  brethren  so,  and  appoint  a 
collection  and  succour  therewith  the  widows  and 
orphans."^  From  a  letter  of  Cyprian,^^  we  learn  par- 
ticulars of  such  a  collection.  Many  Christians  having 
been  made  prisoners  of  war  in  Numidia,  the  bishops  of 
that  country  applied  for  help  to  Cyprian,  who  appointed 
a  collection  from  both  clerics  and  laics,  which  yielded 
100,000  HS.  (£877).  Cyprian  accompanied  its  con- 
signment with  a  special  list  of  the  givers,  "  that  you  may 


154  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  n. 

remember  the  brethren  and  sisters  who  willingly  and 
speedily  helped  in  so  necessary  a  work,  in  your  prayers, 
and  give  them  a  compensation  for  their  good  work  in 
the  offerings  and  prayers."  It  is  evident  that  prayer  at 
the  celebration  of  the  Lord's  Supper  in  the  Numidian 
churches  is  intended. 

The  extraordinary  gifts  bestowed  upon  the  Church  by 
certain  affluent  individuals,  when  they  joined  it,  formed 
another  source.  Thus  Cyprian  at  his  conversion  sold 
lands  and  gardens,  to  give  the  price  to  the  Church  and  to 
the  poor.^^  He  also  subsequently  assigned  to  it  part  of 
his  private  property,  when  the  fund  for  the  poor  was 
during  the  distress  caused  by  persecution  insufficient.*" 
That  similar  acts  often  took  place  is  expressly  mentioned 
by  Eusebius,*^  but  they  did  not  furnish  considerable  sums, 
because  the  great  body  of  Christians  still  belonged  to  the 
poorer  classes.  By  far  the  greater  part  was  given  not  by 
persons  of  property,  but  was  on  the  contrary  the  result 
of  the  small  gifts  of  people  of  low  condition,  who,  as  the 
Apostolical  Constitutions  say,  gave  of  their  labour  and  of  the 
sweat  of  their  brow.'*^  It  was  just  this  which  gave  special 
value  to  the  gifts.  In  those  days  it  was  not  a  propor- 
tionate though  still  a  trifling  gift  that  was  given  out  of 
superfluity,  but  they  who  had  little  gave  much  because 
they  loved  much.  Nay,  they  who  could  not  give  of  their 
earnings  imposed  privations  on  themselves,  that  they  might 
be  able  to  give  as  alms  what  they  had  spared  by  fasting. 
Already  in  the  Pastor  of  Hernias,  the  shepherd  teaches 
Hermas  how  he  ought  to  fast.  He  is  to  abstain  from 
drink  and  food,  and,  after  calculating  by  the  expenditure 
of  other  days  what  he  has  saved,  to  put  it  aside  and  to  give 
it  to  the  widows  and  orphans  and  the  poor.  Thus  will 
fasting  be  an  offering    acceptable   to    God.**^      Similarly 


CHAP,  m.]  MEANS  FOR  EELIEF  OF  THE  POOR.  155 

Origen.'*^  To  abstain  from  evil,  he  says,  is  the  true  fast, 
but  to  abstain  from  meats  which  God  has  created  to  be 
received  with  thanksgiving  by  believers,  is  not  true  fasting. 
This  is  not  however  to  be  said,  to  loosen  the  bridle  upon 
the  flesh,  for  we  have  the  forty  days'  fast,  and  tlie  fourth 
and  sixth  days  of  the  week  on  which  we  fast.  The 
Christian  is  also  at  liberty  to  fast  every  day,  not  in  the 
superstition  of  an  observance,  but  in  the  power  of 
abstinence.  Origen  then  adds :  "  There  is  also  another 
kind  of  pious  fasting,  whose  praise  is  expressed  in  the 
writings  of  some  of  the  apostles."  Por  we  read  in  a 
certain  book  the  judgment  of  the  apostles  :  "  Happy  is  he 
who  fasts  for  the  purpose  of  feeding  the  poor."  "  Such 
fasting  is  acceptable  to  God  and  truly  worthy.  For  it 
imitates  Him  who  laid  down  His  life  for  His  brethren." 
The  Apostolic  Constitutions  also  give  the  express  injunc- 
tion :  ^^  "  If  any  one  has  nothing  to  give,  let  him  fast  and 
apply  the  day's  share  to  the  saints,"  which  in  this  place 
certainly  means  the  Christians  condemned  to  the  mines. 
Besides,  it  was  not  merely  individuals  who  employed  this 
means  of  procuring  themselves  the  power  of  giving  alms, 
it  sometimes  also  happened,  that  the  bishop  would 
prescribe  a  fast  to  the  whole  Church  for  the  purpose  of 
applying  what  was  thus  spared  to  the  wants  of  the  needy. 
However  admirable  may  be  the  strength  of  the  love  which 
thus  imposed  sacrifices  on  itself,  that  it  might  be  able 
to  give  to  others,  we  must  not  on  the  other  hand  ignore 
the  fact,  that  this  combination  of  almsgiving  and  fasting 
already  announced  a  corruption  of  almsgiving  by  secondary 
motives  of  an  ascetic  character.  Emphasis  was  at  least 
laid  on  the  renunciation  therein  shown,  as  ivell  as  on  the 
love  of  the  brethren,  and  it  was  just  this  notion,  that 
there  was  some  independent  moral  value  in  self-depriva- 


156  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  n. 

tion  of  a  portion  of  earthly  possessions,  which  became, 
as  we  shall  see,  extremely  dangerous  to  charity,  nay 
destroyed  its  inmost  core. 

Thoughts  already  emerge  fitted  to  obscure  the  freedom 
of  giving  which  was  at  first  so  firmly  adhered  to.  The 
effort  may  be  perceived,  though  as  yet  only  in  its  be- 
ginnings, to  convert  freely  offered,  into  legally  prescribed 
gifts.  Two  things  conduced  to  this.  First  the  inclina- 
tion, by  reason  of  viewing  of  Christianity  as  a  new  law, 
to  apply  to  Christians  the  appointments  of  the  Old 
Testament  law.  And  this  not  merely  by  seeing  in 
Christianity  a  spiritual  fulfilment  of  Old  Testament 
precepts,  as  e.g.  of  circumcision  in  baptism,  but  also  by 
transferring  the  appointments  of  the  ceremonial  law 
directly  to  the  Church.**^  Now  the  Old  Testament  enjoined 
the  children  of  Israel  to  give  first-fruits  and  tithes.  The 
question  then,  whether  Christians  were  not  also  obliged 
to  do  the  same,  was  an  obvious  one.  Irenaius^^  indeed 
sees  the  advance  of  the  New  Testament  beyond  the  Old 
Testament  in  the  fact,  that  the  former  contains  no  external 
command,  but  that  Christians  gave  freely  more  than  the 
Jews  gave  legally.  So  long  as  this  was  actually  the 
fact,  there  was  certainly  no  necessity  to  recur  to  the  Old 
Testament  law.  But  when  love  began  evidently  to  wax 
cold,  when  Christians  no  longer  gave  so  much,  the  thought 
must  have  the  more  impressed  itself,  that  Christians  were 
at  least  bound  to  do  so  as  mucli  as  Jews.  This  is  shown 
by  the  circumstance,  that  it  was  none  other  than  Cyprian, 
the  first  in  whom  we  encounter  complaints  of  the  decrease 
of  free  gifts,  who  was  also  the  first  in  the  West  to  refer 
to  the  tithes,  and  that  just  in  connection  with  such  a 
complaint.  He  recalls  the  fact,  that  the  primitive 
Christians  sold  their  possessions  and  gave  the  price  to  the 


CHAP,  m.]  MEANS  FOE  RELIEF  OF  THE  POOR.  157 

poor.  "We  on  the  contrary  now  give  not  even  the 
tenth  of  ours,  and  while  the  Lord  commands  us  to  sell, 
we  rather  buy,  and  increase  our  estates."  ^^  Though 
we  perceive  from  this,  that  the  tenth  was  not  then  the 
law,  also  that  it  was  not  as  subsequently  regarded  as 
an  apostolic  institution,  yet  there  is  a  ring  in  the  words 
indicating  that  Cyprian  was  well  inclined  to  make  it  a 
law. 

It  is  in  the  East  that  we  already  meet  with  the  first 
attempts  to  raise  it  into  one.  Origen  directly  declares 
the  Old  Testament  law  to  be  on  this  point  binding. 
"  The  law  commands  the  priests  to  sacrifice  the  firstlings 
of  all  fruits  and  cattle.  I  hold  it  needful  to  observe  this 
law,  as  well  as  certain  others,  literally  (therefore  not 
merely  spiritually  as  in  the  oblations,  which  were  often 
looked  upon  as  the  first-fruits).  For  there  are  some  laws 
of  the  Old  Testament,  which  the  disciples  of  the  Xew 
must  of  necessity  keep."  ^^  Origen  himself  evidently 
gives  his  view  as  only  a  private  opinion.  It  was  in  the 
nature  of  the  case,  that  it  soon  became  something  more. 
The  various  writings  in  which  the  ordinances  and  rules 
of  Christian  and  ecclesiastical  life  were  in  the  end  of  the 
third  and  beginning  of  the  fourth  century  deposited,  and 
whose  latest  edition  the  Apostolical  Constitutions  appear 
to  have  been,  all  contain  the  command  of  the  first-fruits 
and  the  tenth.  In  the  book  of  Clement  it  is  required 
that  a  believer  who  tills  a  field  should  bring  the  first- 
fruits  to  the  bishop.^"  In  the  canons  attributed  to 
Hippolytus,  the  command  is  still  further  enlarged.^^  Xot 
only  the  first-fruits  of  the  barn-floor  and  the  wine-press, 
of  oil,  honey,  milk  and  wool,  but  also  the  first-fruits  of 
the  profits  of  handicraft  are  to  be  brought  to  the  bishop 
who  then  pronounces  a  blessing  upon  them,  that  they 


158  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [bOOK  n. 

may  serve  for  the  feeding  of  the  poor.  Lastly,  the 
Apostolic  Constitutions  expressly  declare  Christians,  on 
the  ground  of  the  Old  Testament  law,  to  be  bound  to 
give  first-fruits  and  tithes.  This  is  in  the  second  book, 
which  is  prse-Constantinian,  restricted  to  corn,  wine,  oil 
and  field-fruits,  while  in  the  seventh,  which  certainly 
belongs  to  the  times  after  Constantine,  the  tenth  of 
everything  is  required.'^^  Of  course  all  this  does  not 
show  that  the  tenth  was  as  yet  law.  The  works  quoted 
desired  to  make  it  such,  and  the  ample  proof  adduced 
for  the  law  of  tithes  in  the  Apostolic  Constitutions  just 
serves  to  show,  that  the  command  made  its  appearance  as 
a  new  one  which  still  stood  in  need  of  this.  In  reality 
the  duty  of  giving  tithes  was  not  yet  carried  ont, 
although  individuals  might  personally  fulfil  it.  It  is 
well  seen,  however,  which  way  the  current  was  tending, 
and  how  far,  even  so  early  as  the  turn  of  the  third  and 
fourth  centuries,  that  liberty  of  giving  was  departed  from, 
which  St.  Paul  makes  so  prominent  in  his  Epistle  to  the 
Corinthians,  and  which  found  in  Iremeus  its  enthusiastic 
eulogist. 

The  needful  data  to  answer  one  obvious  question,  viz. 
what  the  means  for  the  relief  of  the  poor  in  a  church 
might  at  this  period  amount  to,  are  wanting.  The  only 
two  numbers  which,  so  far  as  I  can  see,  are  extant,  show 
however,  that  the  sums  must  have  been,  not  merely  in 
proportion  to  the  size  and  means  of  the  church,  but  also 
in  themselves,  very  considerable.  Cyprian  collected  in  his 
church  100,000  HS.,  i.e.  above  £850,  for  the  Numidian 
pj'isoners.  The  Carthaginian  church  cannot  have  been 
large.  Cyprian  makes  the  passing  remark,  that  he  knew 
every  member.  This  points  to  at  most  from  3000  to 
4000  persons.     If  such  a  church,  in  which  there  were 


CHAP,  m.]  MEANS  FOE  RELIEF  OF  THE  POOR.  159 

certainly  many  poor,  made  in  a  short  time  a  collection  of 
over  £850  for  one  single  definite  object,  and  that  more- 
over for  members  of  foreign  churches,  this  testifies  to  a 
great  readiness  in  giving.  According  to  a  note  in 
Eusebius,  1500  widows  and  indigent  persons  were  sup- 
ported in  Eome  by  the  Church.  Eeckoning  then  for 
an  adult  a  month's  rations  of  five  Roman  bushels,  which 
according  to  their  average  value  in  the  imperial  era  were 
worth  about  4s.  5d.,  a  year's  ration  would  amount  to  about 
£2,  12s.  Hence,  if  we  reckon  only  £2,  10s.  per  head, 
we  have  for  the  1500,  £3750.^^  Here,  then,  we  come 
upon  a  considerable  sum  for  even  the  Eoman  church. 
In  later  times  far  larger  sums  were  given,  but  no  period 
gave  with  a  liberality  proportioned  to  this.  This  indeed, 
considering  the  smallness  of  the  churches  and  the  scanty 
possessions  of  their  members,  was  only  made  possible  by 
the  fact  that  all  gave  and  gave  liberally.  It  is  just  this 
which  distinguishes  this  period  above  others. 


CHAPTEE    IV. 

OFFICIALS  AND  OFFICES  FOR  CHARITY. 

It  is  not  in  its  resources  but  in  individual  energy,  that 
charity  has  its  centre  of  gravity.  Considerable  as  were 
the  sums  distributed  during  this  period  by  the  members 
of  the  Church,  later  ages  furnished  incomparably  greater 
and  yet  attained  incomparably  smaller  results.  What 
distinguished  this  period  above  all  otliers,  and  produced 
results  never  again  attained  in  like  proportion,  was  on 
the  one  hand  the  personal  energy  which  was  exerted  in 
the  Church,  and  next  the  regulations  by  which  and  the 
offices  in  which  this  energy  and  by  it  the  existing  means 
were  employed. 

The  congregational  character  borne,  as  we  have  seen, 
by  the  charity  of  this  period,  naturally  involves  the  fact, 
that  its  conduct  lay  where  the  conduct  of  the  Church  in 
general  lay,  i.e.  in  the  hands  of  the  presbytery,  and 
subsequently  in  that  of  the  bishop.  The  few  documents 
which  we  possess  of  the  same  date  as  the  origin  of  the 
episcopate,  exhibit  the  deacons  in  a  position  equally 
dependent  upon  the  presbyters,  as  afterwards  upon  the 
bishop.  They  never  independently  managed  the  relief 
of  the  poor,  not  even  when  indications  are  here- and  there 
found  which  lead  us  to  conclude,  that  they  disposed  with 
somewhat  greater  freedom  of  the  contributions  for  the 
needy.^     In  the  Epistle  of  Polycarp,^  and  also  in  the 

160 


CHAP.  IV.]       OFFICIALS  AND  OFFICES  FOR  CHARITY.  161 

Shepherd  of  Hernias,^  the  care  of  wicbws  and  orphans 
is  not  designated  as  the  duty  of  the  deacons,  but  of  the 
presbyters.  Here,  too,  it  is  seen,  that  there  never  was 
an  independent  office  for  the  relief  of  the  poor  besides 
that  for  the  government  of  the  Church.  When,  then,  the 
bishop  was  .raised  above  the  college  of  presbyters,  and 
the  constitution  of  the  Church  became  monarchical,  the 
increasing  authority  of  the  bishop  must  naturally  have 
made  the  position  of  the  deacons  still  more  dependent, 
whether  in  the  care  of  the  poor  or  in  other  duties.  The 
relief  of  the  poor,  like  the  entire  conduct  of  the  Church, 
was  more  and  more  concentrated  in  the  person  of  the 
bishop,  and  this  concentration  rather  increased  than 
decreased  during  the  course  of  the  third  century.  From 
the  Epistles  of  Cyprian  we  perceive,  that  the  bishop 
exclusively  administered  the  means  for  the  poor,  and 
that  the  deacons  merely  occupied  a  position  of  service, 
inquiring  by  order  of  the  bishop  into  the  circumstances 
of  the  poor,  and  then  conveying  to  them  what  the  bishop, 
with  whom  alone  the  decision  rested,  appointed/  Only 
in  the  time  of  persecution,  when  Cyprian  was  obliged  to 
retire  from  Carthage  for  a  period,  did  he  divide  the 
existing  resources  among  the  deacons,  and  commission 
them  to  deal  with  them  according  to  their  judgment, 
"that  several  may  have  wherewith  to  alleviate  their 
affliction  and  distress."'^  Still  Cyprian  did  not  hereby 
give  this  branch  of  his  office  entirely  out  of  his  hands, 
for  even  from  his  place  of  exile  he  still  communicated 
injunctions  with  respect  to  it,  and  had  even  left  a  larger 
sum  with  the  presbyter  Eogatianus,  wdio  evidently  exer- 
cised, in  the  place  of  the  bishop,  some  kind  of  oversight 
of  the  deacons.®  The  same  kind  of  thing  took  place  in 
Eome.      At  the  time  of  the  Decian  persecution,  Fabian 

L 


162  CHRISTIAN  CHAEITY  IN  ANCIENT  CIIURCII.       [boOK  II. 

the  bishop  "^  divided  the  Church  funds  among  the  seven 
deacons.  It  was  also  during  a  persecution,  that  the 
deacon  Laurentius  gave  away  all  the  existing  means  to 
the  poor,  and  then  presented  the  poor  to  the  town-prefect 
as  the  treasures  of  the  Church.  But  these  were  extra- 
ordinary circumstances,  from  which  no  general  conclusions 
can  be  drawn.  In  quieter  times,  when  all  went  on  in 
the  usual  order,  the  whole  care  of  the  poor  was  concen- 
trated in  the  hands  of  the  bishop.^  Tliis  too  we  find  in 
the  Apostolical  Constitutions,  They  compare  the  bishop 
to  a  father,  the  deacon  to  a  son.  As  a  son  does  nothing 
without  his  father,  so  is  the  deacon  to  do  nothing  without 
the  bishop.  He  is  to  give  nothing  to  a  poor  person 
without  the  previous  knowledge  of  the  bishop.  By  so 
doing  he  would  slander  the  bishop,  as  though  he  did  not 
care  for  the  poor.^  The  bishop  himself  is  responsible  to 
God  alone  for  the  management  of  the  alms  for  the  poor. 
No  one  must  interfere  with  or  control  him.  It  is,  how- 
ever, expressly  enjoined  as  a  sacred  duty  upon  the  bishop 
to  be  faithful  and  conscientious  in  the  relief  of  the  poor. 
He  is  to  be  compassionate,  zealous  in  love,  liberal,  one 
who  loves  widows  and  strangers,  ready  to  do  service, 
himself  a  good  deacon,  and  then  he  is  reminded  of  the 
account  which  God  will  one  day  demand  of  him.^° 

Such  a  concentration  of  charity  in  one  hand  could  be 
salutary  only  on  the  supposition,  that  sufficient  and  able 
assistance  was  at  his  command.  This  he  received  from 
the  deacons,  whom  we  find  in  post-apostolic  times  in  all 
churches.  We  need  but  glance  at  the  Epistles  of  Polycarp 
and  Ignatius  to  see,  the  very  different  appearance  they 
make  in  these,  and  in  the  apostolic  epistles.  Presbyters 
and  deacons,  and  afterwards  bishop  priests  and  deacons 
now  form  the  regular  official  staff  of  every  church.     Their 


CHAP.  TV.]       OFFICIALS  AND  OFFICES  FOR  CHARITY.  163 

numbers  vary.  In  many  places  the  number  of  seven  was 
felt  binding  after  the  analogy  of  the  seven  at  Jerusalem. 
It  was  thus  in  Eome,  where  two  of  the  fourteen  districts 
of  the  town  were  apportioned  to  each  deacon.^^  The 
Council  too  of  Neo-Csesarea,  said  to  have  been  held  in 
314,  determined  the  number  of  the  deacons  at  seven.^^ 
Elsewhere  the  number  of  deacons  was  regulated  by  the 
size  of  the  church.  A  resolution  corresponding  herewith 
is  contained  in  the  Apostolical  Constitutions.^^  Even  so 
early  as  the  third  century,  we  meet  with  sub-deacons, 
evidently  because  the  deacons  did  not  suffice.  They 
relieved  the  deacons  of  the  inferior  duties.  There  were 
in  Eome  seven  sub-deacons  corresponding  to  the  number 
of  deacons,  as  we  find  stated  in  a  letter  of  the  Bishop 
Cornelius  to  Bishop  Fabius  of  Antioch.^*  The  first 
mention  of  them  in  Spain  is  in  the  Synod  of  Elvira  (305). 
In  the  East  they  were  of  still  later  appearance,  not 
occurring  during  our  present  period.^*  For  the  rest,  the 
sub-deacons  do  not  seem  to  have  been  employed  in  the 
care  of  the  poor,  but  to  have  relieved  the  deacons  of  all 
kinds  of  subordinate  employments,  especially  the  service  at 
the  church  door,  the  maintenance  of  order  in  the  church, 
the  deliverance  of  messages,  etc.,  by  which  arrangement  not 
only  was  the  position  of  the  deacons  raised,  but  their  atten- 
tion was  more  entirely  given  to  the  relief  of  the  poor. 

According  to  the  Apostolic  Constitutions,  the  deacons 
were  to  be  the  eye  and  ear  of  the  bishop,  through  them 
he  was  to  learn  what  was  going  on  in  the  church,  they 
were  at  the  same  time  to  be  the  right  hand  by  which  he 
acted.^®  And  especially  so  in  the  care  of  the  poor.  The 
bishop  made  use  of  them  both  in  the  collection  and  dis- 
tribution of  funds.  They  made  exceptions  to  gifts  and 
gathered  contributions,  while    on  the    other    hand  they 


164  CIIEISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [BOOK  II. 

conveyed  to  the  poor  what  the  bishop  appointed  for 
them.  Above  all,  they  had  to  investigate  strictly  and  in 
detail  the  circumstances  of  the  poor.  They  went  about 
into  houses,  and  when  they  found  cases  of  distress  they 
notified  them  to  the  bishop,  that  he  might  make  the 
necessary  arrangements.^^  They  were  not  to  act  behind 
the  -bishop's  back,  though  a  certain  amount  of  freedom 
was  left  them  ;  at  least  the  Apostolical  Constitutions  enjoin 
the  deacons  to  dispose  of  the  smaller  affairs  themselves, 
that  the  bishop  may  not  be  overburdened,  and  allude  on 
the  occasion  to  the  advice  given  by  Jethro  to  Moses. ^* 
Probably  a  list  of  those  relieved  by  reason  of  the  informa- 
tion obtained  by  the  deacons  was  now  already  made,  the 
so-called  matricula  in  which  were  entered  the  names  of 
all  relieved,  with  a  statement  of  their  circumstances  and 
of  what  they  were  to  receive.^"  The  services  of  the 
deacon  are  the  most  fully  described  in  the  book  of 
Clement,^'*  which  indeed  in  its  present  state  is  perhaps 
post-Constantinian.  He  is  to  minister  to  the  infirm,  to 
strangers  and  widows,  to  be  a  father  to  orphans,  to  go 
about  into  the  houses  of  the  poor  to  see  if  there  is  any 
one  in  need,  sickness,  or  any  other  adversity  ;  he  is  to 
care  for  and  give  information  to  strangers  ;  he  is  to  wash 
the  paralytic  and  infirm,  that  they  may  have  refreshment 
in  their  pains.  Every  one  is  to  have  what  he  is  in  need 
of  with  respect  to  the  Church.  He  is  also  to  visit  inns, 
to  see  if  any  poor  or  sick  have  entered,  or  any  dead  are 
in  them ;  if  he  finds  anything  of  the  kind,  he  is  to  notify 
it,  that  what  is  needful  may  be  provided  for  every  one. 
If  he  lives  in  a  seaside  town,  he  is  to  look  about  on  the 
shore  to  discover  if  a  body  has  been  washed  ashore,  and 
if  he  finds  one  to  clothe  and  bury  it.  He  is  not  to  burden 
the  bishop  with  too  many  requests,  but    to  make  him 


CHAP.  IV.]       OFFICIALS  AND  OFFICES  FOR  CHARITY.  165 

acquainted  with  all  on  Sundays.  It  is  very  significant 
that  the  deacons  have  a  kind  of  patronage  of  the  poor. 
If  the  deacons  are  on  the  one  hand  enjoined  carefully  to 
assist  the  poor  in  every  respect,  the  latter  have  to  render 
obedience  and  respect  to  the  deacons.^^  This  was  of 
special  importance,  when  the  question  was,  to  enable  the 
poor  to  resume  work,  and  to  induce  them  to  earn  their 
own  living. 

There  was  a  female  as  well  as  a  male  diaconate.  I 
say  designedly  a  female  diaconate — not  deaconesses.  For 
there  were  not  always  during  this  period,  nor  everywhere 
in  the  Church,  deaconesses,  though  there  was  always  and 
everywhere  somewhat  of  female  ministration  {diahonia), 
though  not  by  any  means  in  the  proportion  or  develop- 
ment usually  supposed.  The  history  of  female  ministra- 
tions in  the  ancient  Church  has  caused  great  confusion  of 
two  kinds.  First,  distinction  has  not  been  made  between 
widows  and  deaconesses,  but  the  former  have  without 
further  ceremony  been  regarded  as  deaconesses,  e.g.,  by 
Bingham  in  former,  and  Neander  in  more  recent  times. 
Secondly,  the  inclination  has  been  fostered  to  transfer  many 
features  taken  from  the  idea  of  the  modern  deaconesses 
to  the  first  centuries,  because  the  desire  to  find  there  the 
deaconesses  of  to-day  ^^  caused  their  presence  to  be  believed. 
The  development  of  female  ministrations  was  in  its  larger 
features  probably  as  follows :  that  of  the  two  institutions 
existing  in  the  Apostolic  Age,  viz.  those  of  widows  and 
deaconesses,  the  latter  for  a  long  period  entirely  dis- 
appeared. In  both  East  and  West  only  widows  are 
met  with.  Then  at  the  end  of  the  third  century  the 
institution  of  deaconesses  again  emerges  in  the  East,  and 
attains  a  maturity  and  dissemination  which  it  never 
before   possessed,  while  the  Western  Church,  in  which 


166  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [BOOK  n. 

the  need  of  a  female  diaconate  was  not  nearly  so  great  as 
in  the  Eastern,  did  not  accept  the  institution  of  deacon- 
esses, at  least  not  as  a  generally  diffused  one,  but  kept 
to  that  of  widows,  which  certainly  was  soon  afterwards 
vitiated,  and  was  never  of  much  importance  in  the  matter 
of  charity.  During  the  whole  period  terminating  about 
the  end  of  the  third  century,  deaconesses  are  mentioned 
but  once,  and  that  in  the  well-known  letter  of  Pliny  to 
the  Emperor  Trajan.^^  Neither  in  the  writings  of  the 
apostolic  Fathers,  nor  in  Tertullian  or  Cyprian,  do  we  meet 
with  them,  and  Origen's  exposition  of  Eom.  xvi.  1  shows, 
that  this  teacher  no  longer  knew  of  deaconesses,  whom 
he  also  omits  in  his  enumeration  of  Church  dignitaries.^* 
Deaconesses  have  disappeared,  though  we  everywhere 
meet  with  widows,  who,  supported  by  the  Church,  occupy 
a  position  of  honour  therein,  and  at  the  same  time 
render  it  their  services.  This  is  evidently  the  same 
institution  with  which  1  Tim.  v.  makes  us  acquainted. 
Ignatius  frequently  sends  greeting  to  the  widows,  they 
always  follow  immediately  after  the  deacons  and  evidently 
belong  to  the  clerical  body.  They  are  mentioned  by 
Polycarp.^^  In  the  Shepherd  of  Hermas,  Grapte  occupies 
a  position  of  honour  at  the  head  of  the  widows.^^  In  the 
homilies  of  Clement,  the  regulation  of  the  institution  of 
widows  forms  part  of  the  complete  ordering  of  offices  in  a 
Church.^'^  Clement  of  Alexandria  reckons  widows  among 
Church  dignitaries.^^  Origen  knows  of  them,^^  and  so  does 
Tertullian.  The  institution  is  evidently  one  spread  over  the 
whole  Church.  We  best  learn  the  position  of  these  widows 
from  the  writings  of  Tertullian.^*'  They  are  older  widows, 
who  have  resolved  to  remain  unmarried.  Being  chosen 
for  the  purpose  on  account  of  their  exemplary  Christian  life 
and  other  qualities,  they  occupy  an  honourable  position  in 


CHAP.  IV.]       OFFICIALS  AND  OFFICES  FOR  CHARITY.  167 

the  Church,  and  are  at  the  same  time  maintained  thereby. 
They  are  at  the  head  of  the  women  in  the  Church,  and 
have  to  speak  at  marriages.^^  Although  they  are  reckoned 
among  the  clergy,  and  occupy  a  seat  of  honour  in  the 
assemblies  of  the  Church,  they  are  not  allowed  to  speak 
publicly  in  the  Church,  though  they  do  instruct  the 
women  and  children,  especially  those  being  prepared  for 
baptism.^^  There  is  certainly  no  distinct  intimation,  that 
they  also  performed  such  offices  as  belonged  to  the 
diaconate,  though  it  may  be  inferred,  that  in  the  Western 
Church  the  institution  continued  to  exist,  when  in  the 
Eastern  much  that  was  allotted  to  widows  was  transferred 
to  deaconesses,  and  certain  intimations  which  at  least 
tend  to  this  are  met  with.  Lucian,  in  his  satire  of  the 
death  of  Peregrinus,^^  relates  that  when  Peregrinus  was 
cast  into  prison,  the  Christians  ministered  to  him  with 
great  zeal.  Certain  aged  widows,  accompanied  by  orphan 
children,  were  seen  waiting  at  the  prison  early  in  the 
morning.  This  leads  us  to  assume,  that  it  was  among  the 
services  allotted  to  widows,  to  care  for  those  imprisoned 
for  conscience'  sake,  to  provide  them  with  food  and  other 
necessaries,  and  that  for  this  purpose  they  employed  the 
assistance  of  the  orphan  children.  This  notice,  as  well 
as  the  circumstance  that  widows  and  orphans  are  always 
named  together,  also  places  widows  in  relation  to  orphans. 
It  was,  moreover,  natural-  to  entrust  the  bringing  up  of 
orphans  to  the  widows.^*  Nor  would  that  care  of  the  poor 
and  sick,  which  we  at  present  regard  as  the  chief  point 
in  the  office  of  deaconesses,  be  entirely  absent  from  that 
of  widows,  though  it  cannot  be  denied  that  it  was  strik- 
ingly in  the  background.  If  it  had  been  of  greater 
importance,  more  would  certainly  have  been  said  of  it 
by  Cyprian,  Origen,  and    Tertullian,       The  main  point 


168  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.      [book  It. 

certainly  was  the  honourable  position  occupied  by  the 
widows,  their  belonging  to  the  clerical  order,  presiding 
over  and  instructing  the  other  women  of  the  Church. 
A  passage  of  Origen  is  in  this  respect  decisive,  for  he 
interprets  1  Tim.  v.  10,  where  it  is  said  of  widows,  that 
they  wash  the  saints'  feet,  figuratively  of  doctrine.  And 
if  the  entertainment  of  strangers  had  then  belonged  to 
the  duties  of  widows,  such  an  exposition  would  hardly 
have  been  possible. 

During  the  last  decades  of  the  third  and  first  of  the 
fourth  century,  a  change  was  effected  in  the  Eastern 
Church,  but  certainly  only  in  this.  There  arose  beside 
the  institution  of  widows  an  order  of  deaconesses,  to 
whom  the  former  surrendered  both  their  office  and  their 
post  of  honour,  so  that  they  were  now  only  maintained  by 
the  Church,  and  in  return  prayed  for  it,  while  in  other 
respects  they  fell  behind  the  deaconesses — nay,  were  under 
their  supervision.  It  is  thus  that  we  find  matters  in  the 
Apostolical  Constitutions^^  in  the  canons  ascribed  to 
Hippolytus,^"  and  in  the  epistles  of  the  pseudo-Ignatius.^^ 
We  are  certainly  without  the  documents  which  might 
enable  us  accurately  to  follow  up  this  change  to  its 
motives,  but  their  main  features  may  nevertheless  be 
perceived.  It  is  evident  that  several  motives  co-operated, 
the  advancing  high  estimation  of  celibacy  and  deprecia- 
tion of  the  married  state,  the  need  that  various  offices 
should  be  performed  for  the  female  portion  of  the  flock 
and  the  development  of  worship,  especially  the  Arcani 
Disciplina.  Already  in  Tertullian  we  find  traces  of  a 
disorganization  of  the  institution  of  widows.  What  he 
characterizes  as  a  monstrosity,  viz.  that  a  virgin  not  yet 
twenty  years  of  age  was  received  into  the  viduage,'^^  shows, 
that  the  thought  had  already  receded  which  liad  called 


CHAP.  IV.]       OFFICIALS  AND  OFFICES  FOR  CHAEITY.  169 

the  order  of  widows  into  existence,  viz.  that  the  widow 
who  had  behind  her  an  unspotted  married  life  was  the 
worthiest  representative  of  the  female  sex,  and  the  fittest 
to  assist  other  women  with  her  advice  and  comfort,  and 
to  set  before  them  an  example  worthy  of  imitation,  and 
that,  on  the  contrary,  unmarried  virginity  was  beginning  to 
be  more  highly  esteemed.  From  Tertullian  even  it  may 
be  inferred,  that  the  occurrence  which  excited  his  wrath 
was  not  an  isolated  one,  and  when  Clement  of  Alexandria 
says  of  a  widow,  who  was  leading  a  truly  Christian 
widowhood,  that  she  was  "  a  virgin  again,"  ^^  it  is  a  sign 
that  there  was  already  an  inclination  to  value  the  present 
unmarried  condition  of  the  widow  above  her  former 
married  life.  This  must  certainly  have  lowered  the 
position  of  widows  and  exalted  that  of  virgins-;  and  in 
fact,  though  subsequently  the  admission  among  the 
deaconesses  of  a  widow,  supposing  her  to  have  been  but 
once  married,  was  not  excluded,  it  formed  the  exception, 
the  rule  being  that  virgins  were  taken  for  this  office.^*^ 
It  is  thus  evident  that  the  widow,  hitherto  so  highly 
esteemed,  now  took  a  position  inferior  to  virgin-deacon- 
esses. This  is  plainly  shown  in  the  revision  of  the 
Ignatian  Epistles,  which  is  about  contemporaneous  with 
the  Apostolical  Constitutions.  While  in  the  genuine 
Epistles,  the  widows  immediately  succeed  the  deacons, 
the  order  in  the  revised  Epistles  is,  that  the  deacons  are 
followed  first  by  the  subordinate  clergy,  then  by  the 
deaconesses,  the  virgins  (living  an  ascetic  life),  and  last 
of  all  by  the  widows.  It  is  the  same  in  the  Apostolical 
Constitutions,  in  which  widows  in  general  occupy  a  very 
subordinate  position,  and  scarcely  a  trace  of  their  former 
higli  estimation  is  to  be  found.^^ 

The  higher  view  of  the  clerical  office  co-operated  in 


170  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [BOOK  II. 

lowering  the  position  of  widows,  and  making  it  untenable. 
Their  position  and  sphere  of  action  at  first  corresponded 
more  with  the  office  of  the  presbyter  than  with  that  of 
the  deacon.  They  were  in  a  certain  sense  the  presbyters 
of  the  women.  So  leading  a  position  as  that  of  instructing 
the  women,  however,  was  no  longer  in  accordance  with 
the  notions  of  office  entertained  in  the  third  century. 
The  presbyter  had  become  a  priest,  the  climax  of  his 
office  now  lay  in  the  offering.  This  a  widow  could  not 
present.  Nor  could  her  position  with  respect  to  the 
women  be  maintained.  A  woman  could  only  be  placed 
on  a  level  with  a  deacon,  who  likewise  could  not  offer, 
and  the  whole  development  may  be  expressed  by  saying, 
that  the  official  position  of  the  woman  in  the  Church  fell 
from  the  level  of  the  presbyterate  to  that  of  the  diaconate. 
Now  to  provide  for  the  female  circle  in  the  Church  just 
those  services  which  the  deacon  performed  for  the  men, 
was,  with  the  increase  of  the  churches,  at  all  events  in 
the  East,  a  necessity.  The  service  rendered  at  baptism, 
the  anointing  after  baptism,  could  not  be  transferred  to 
men.  The  case  too  of  sick,  and  the  relief  of  poor  females, 
was  not  suitable  for  men,  and  when,  through  the  enhanced 
dignity  of  the  priestly  office,  the  pastoral  care  of  women 
also  came  into  the  hands  of  the  priests,  there  was  needed, 
by  reason  of  the  customs  of  the  East,  which  forbade  the 
intercourse  of  men  and  women,  some  one  to  be  the 
medium  of  such  intercourse.  It  is  true  that  many  of 
these  needs  were  also  formerly  in  existence,  but  when  the 
churches  were  small,  there  was  found,  independently  of 
that  rendered  by  the  widows,  a  sufficiency  of  voluntary 
female  assistance.  And  here  too  it  must  not  be  forsotten, 
that  the  diaconate,  and  especially  the  female  diaconate, 
was  of  a  transient   character,   and  that  much  of   what 


CHAP.  IV.]      OFFICIALS  AND  OFFICES  FOR  CHARITY.  l7l 

belonged  to  the  vocation  of  a  deaconess  also  fell  to  all 
women.  This  is  very  plainly  shown  in  the  Church  rules 
ascribed  to  Clement.  After  settling  what  were  to  be  the 
services  of  the  deaconesses,  it  is  there  added  :  "  But  if 
another  woman  of  the  Church  is  desirous  to  do  good 
works,  let  her  do  so  according  to  her  inclination."  '^^  There 
is  here  evidently  a  glance  of  the  former  state  of  things, 
■which  the  institution  of  deaconesses  was  not  intended 
entirely  to  do  away  with.  Voluntary  services,  liowever, 
were  no  longer  sufficient  to  meet  the  increased  claims  for 
them,  and  as  there  was  in  those  days  a  tendency  to  give 
official  stability  to  all  services,  even  in  the  civil  sphere, 
so  here  too  it  was  no  less  apparent. 

In  the  book  just  quoted,  there  is  found  a  passage, 
transferred  also  to  the  Apostolical  Constitutions,  as  used 
in  the  Church  in  Egypt,*^  plainly  showing  that  the 
motives  stated  above,  were  actually  those  then  active.  It 
is  a  conversation  of  the  apostles  concerning  female  minis- 
trations.'*^ Andrew  says  :  "  It  is  fitting,  my  brethren,  for 
women  also  to  exercise  a  ministration."  Peter  replies : 
"  That  has  been  already  done,  but  that  some  appointment 
must  be  made  concerning  the  dispensing  of  the  body  and 
blood  of  Christ ;"  and  John  then  reminds  them,  "  that  the 
Lord  had  not  let  women  share  in  the  institution  of  the 
Lord's  Supper,"  Martha  then  interposes  with  the  words : 
"  Because  of  Mary,  for  He  saw  her  smile,"  Mary  :  "I  did 
not  smile,  but  the  Lord  said  beforehand :  '  The  weak  is 
saved  by  the  strong.' "  This  sets  a  limit  to  the  office  of 
the  woman,  she  is  not  a  priestess,  she  cannot  bring  the 
offering,  may  not  dispense  the  sacrament ;  the  man  does 
this,  and  through  his  instrumentality  the  woman  also 
receives  the  benefit.  But  she  is  to  serve.  As  there  is  a 
ministry  for  men,  so  is  there  also  a  ministry  "  for  women." 


172  CHRISTIAN  CIIAMTY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [BOOK  II. 

Similarly  is  the  bishop  enjoined  in  the  Apostolical  Con- 
stitutions :  "  Choose  a  deaconess  for  the  service  of  the 
women."  Epiphanius  too  makes  a  regard  for  decorum  a 
reason  for  the  establishment  of  a  female  diaconate.^^ 

To  this  was  added  another  need,  that  experienced  at 
public  worship.  We  must  not  overlook  the  fact,  that 
public  worship  was  beginning  to  assume  a  far  more 
elaborate  form  than  it  had  hitherto  done,  that  its  already 
often  splendid  appearance  necessitated  the  performance  of 
a  variety  of  services,  that  the  Arcani  Disciplina  especially, 
which  was  now  introduced,  required  an  oversight  of  the 
worship  and  its  frequenters,  quite  unknown  at  a  former 
period.  Many  persons  were  required  to  take  care,  by 
strict  oversight,  and  especially  by  careful  watch  at  the 
church  doors,  that  no  uninitiated  persons  should  take  part 
in  the  service.  The  same  times  in  which  the  inferior 
male  church-ofQcers  were  increased,  created  also  a  corre- 
sponding female  office,  that  of  the  deaconesses.  For  it 
is  in  fact  here,  viz.  in  the  service  of  the  Church,  that  we 
find  the  centre  of  gravity  of  this  office,  and  not,  where  we 
are  inclined  to  seek  it,  in  the  care  of  the  sick  and  poor. 
The  deaconesses  were  above  all  "  the  guardians  of  the 
sacred  doors."  This  duty  stands  in  the  first  rank,  when 
they  are  greeted  by  the  pseudo-Ignatius ;  and  the  prayer 
of  consecration  for  deaconesses  in  the  Apostolical  Con- 
stitutions does  not  see  the  model  of  the  deaconesses  in 
such  women  as  Tabitha,  but  in  Anna  and  Huldah,  who 
served  in  the  temple,  and  in  the  portresses  in  the  Old 
Testament. 

The  supposed  work  of  Clement  already  so  often  quoted, 
gives  us  a  glimpse  into  the  transition  from  the  institute  of 
widows  to  that  of  deaconesses.  Deaconesses  property 
so  called,  it  is  as  yet  unacquainted  with,  but  it  appoints, 


CHAP.  IV.]       OFFICIALS  AND  OFFICES  FOE  CHARITY.  173 

that  there  should  be  three  widows  in  every  church,  two 
of  whom  engage  to  pray,  while  the  third  undertakes  the 
care  of  the  sick  and  needy.  She  is  to  be  willing  to  give 
her  services  and  temperate,  she  is  to  announce  the  names 
of  the  needy  to  the  elders,  she  is  not  to  be  greedy  of  gain, 
not  given  to  wine,  that  she  may  be  able  to  watch  at  night 
services.'*^  It  is  true  that  the  book,  from  which  this 
notice  is  taken,  does  not  represent  the  common  faith  of 
the  Catholic  Church.  It  is  nevertheless  likely  that  a 
genuine  historical  feature  is  here  preserved.  The  attempt 
was  obviously  made  to  supply  a  prevailing  necessity,  at 
first  by  transferring  to  a  single  widow,  the  services  of 
deaconesses  until  the  further  step  was  taken  of  insti- 
tuting actual  deaconesses.  Perhaps  it  is  in  connection 
with  the  first  step,  that  only  one  deaconess  is  spoken  of 
in  the  Canons  of  Hippolytus.  The  older  portions  too  of 
the  Constitutions  have  almost  always  but  one  deaconess 
— a  number,  i.e.  an  order  of  deaconesses  lirst  appearing 
in  the  later  books.*^ 

We  must  not,  moreover,  conceive  of  the  matter  as 
though  the  deaconesses  had  suddenly  everywhere  super- 
seded the  widows.  The  institution  of  deaconesses  seems 
indeed  to  have  spread  rapidly.  The  19th  Canon  of 
Nicea  treats  it  as  already  generally  existing  even  among 
the  sects,^  but  it  was  not  till  the  Council  of  Laodicea 
that  the  fall  of  the  ancient  institution  of  widows  was 
sealed  by  the  general  prohibition  (by  Canon  11)  of  the 
future  appointment  of  presiding  widows.  Finally,  the 
West  did  not  agree  in  making  this  entire  change.  The 
widows  here  remained  in  their  ancient  position.  At 
least,  they  were  not  superseded  by  deaconesses  proper. 
There  never  were  in  the  Western  Church  deaconesses 
like  those  in  the  Eastern.     Those  that  have  been  esteemed 


174  CHEISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [BOOK  II. 

such  were  widows,  to  whom  the  name  of  deaconesses 
may  have  been  here  and  there  transferred,  and  dedicated 
virgins  (sandimonialcs),  who  vohmtarily  assisted  them. 
This  is  proved  by  the  manner  in  which  Jerome  interprets 
the  passages  Eom.  xvi.  1,  1  Tim.  iii.  11,  for  with  respect 
to  both  he  says  by  way  of  explanation,  that  in  the  East 
(therefore  not  in  the  West)  there  are  still  deaconesses ; 
and  adds  to  this  by  a  passage  in  the  letter  of  the  same 
Father  to  Nepotian,  in  which  he  advises  the  latter  to  let 
himself  be  taken  care  of  in  his  sickness  by  a  brother  or 
sister,  or  if  he  has  not  such  relations  "  the  Church 
maintains  many  aged  women,  who  give  their  services  and 
receive  support  while  serving,  so  that  your  infirmity  will 
bear  the  fruit  of  an  almsgiving."  ^^  This  plainly  shows, 
that  in  the  West  the  aged  women,  the  widows,  still  per- 
formed the  services,  which  had  in  the  East  devolved  on 
the  deaconesses.  The  epitaphs  too,  in  which  so  many 
deacons  and  dedicated  virgins  occur,  never  name  deacon- 
esses in  the  West.  I  at  least  have  found  but  one  from 
Upper  Italy,  and  this,  standing  as  it  does  alone,  cannot 
prove  the  existence  of  an  institution  of  deaconesses.^ 
That  of  widows  did  not  indeed  last  much  longer  in  the 
West.  If  it  remained  somewhat  longer  than  in  the  East, 
it  could  not  but  succumb  there  also.  The  only  difference 
was,  that  no  compensation  for  it  was  made  in  the  West. 
The  times  were  too  stormy,  and  charity  had  already 
assumed  another  character. 

In  the  oriental  churches  the  deaconesses  undoubtedly 
belonged  to  the  clergy,  although  only  to  its  lower  order. 
The  Apostolical  Constitutions  assign  to  them  the  rank  of 
sub-deacons,  and  their  supplies  correspond  with  this — the 
bishop  receiving  four  portions,  the  presbyter  three,  the 
deacon  two,  and   the  deaconess  like  the  sub-deacon  one 


CHAP.  IV.]       OFFICIALS  AND  OFFICES  FOR  CHARITY.  175 

portion.*^  The  deaconess,  as  belonging  to  the  clergy, 
•was  also  ordained.  This  has  been  questioned,  but  it  is 
plainly  shown  by  many  passages,  in  which  the  laying  on 
of  hands  is  spoken  of  in  the  case  of  deaconesses.^^  We 
have  a  certainly  somewhat  later  description  of  the  in- 
auguration of  a  deaconess,  which  was,  however,  essentially 
in  use  also  at  the  date  of  the  Apostolical  Constitutions, 
which  in  Book  viii.  give  only  the  prayer  of  consecration.^' 
The  deaconess  in  a  veil  comes  to  the  altar.  The  bishop 
greets  her  with :  "  The  grace  of  God,  which  is  powerful 
in  the  weak,  be  with  thee."  Then  she  bends  not  her 
knee,  but  her  head,  and  the  bishop  prays :  "  Eternal  God, 
the  Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who  didst  create 
man  and  woman,  who  didst  fill  Miriam  and  Deborah,  and 
Anna  and  Huldah  with  the  Holy  Spirit,  who  didst  not 
deem  it  unfit,  to  let  Thine  only-begotten  Son  be  born 
of  a  woman,  who  also  didst  af)point  in  the  tabernacle 
a  witness,  and  in  the  temple  female  guardians  of  Thy 
sacred  doors,  look  upon  this  Thine  handmaid,  who  is 
chosen  for  Thy  service,  give  her  Thy  Holy  Spirit,  and 
cleanse  her  from  all  pollution  of  the  flesh  and  the  spirit, 
that  she  may  worthily  perform  the  work  committed  to 
her,  to  Thy  glory  and  the  glory  of  Thy  Christ,  with  whom 
and  the  Holy  Spirit  be  glory  and  worship  to  Thee,  for 
ever.  Amen."  After  the  prayer  he  puts  on  her,  under 
the  veil,  the  orarium  (the  ancient  stole)  of  the  deacons. 
Then  follows  the  celebration  of  the  Lord's  Supper,  at 
which  the  deaconess  receives  the  cup  from  the  hand  of 
the  deacon,  but  on  her  part  does  not  hand  it  on,  but 
places  it  on  the  altar,  this  being  the  sign  that  she  is  not 
to  take  part  in  the  distribution  of  the  sacrament. 

The  services  of  the  deaconesses  lay  first,  as  already 
remarked,  in  the  sphere  of  public  worship.     They  stood 


176  CHEISTI AN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [BOOK  11. 

as  portresses  at  those  entrances  of  tlie  church  which 
were  appointed  for  women,  to  keep  away  unfit  visitors ; 
they  showed  women,  especially  strangers,  their  places,  and 
kept  order.  According  to  the  book  of  Clement  above 
referred  to,  they  were  also  to  reprove  those  who  came 
too  late,  and  to  pray  with  them,  that  they  might  be  more 
zealous.^*  Then  they  attended  on  women  at  baptism, 
and,  after  the  priest  had  anointed  them  on  the  forehead, 
performed  the  unction  of  the  breast.^*  I  do  not  find 
that  they  had  also  to  prepare  candidates  for  baptism  by 
instruction,  though  a  synod  in  Carthage  does  indeed 
prescribe  such  instruction  by  widows  and  God-betrothed 
virgins.  They  are  to  teach  inexperienced  and  uneducated 
women  before  baptism,  how  they  are  to  answer  the 
baptizer,  and  how  they  ought  to  live  after  its  reception.®* 
According  to  the  book  of  Clement,  it  is  also  their  duty  to 
carry  the  sacrament  to  sick  women,  who  cannot  go  to 
church.  This  seems,  however,  not  to  have  been  the 
general  custom.''^ 

Besides  these  Church  services,  however,  the  deacon- 
esses were  also  active  in  the  care  of  the  poor.  They 
occupy,  in  respect  of  the  female  portion  of  the  congrega- 
tion, exactly  the  same  position  which  the  deacon  does  in 
respect  of  the  male.  The  bishop  could  not  send  a 
deacon  to  visit  the  women,  because  of  unbelievers,  lest, 
as  the  Apostolic  Constitutions  say,  evil  reports  should 
arise.  Hence  he  is  in  this  case  to  send  a  deaconess.''^ 
We  must  therefore  conclude,  that  the  deaconess  in  this 
case  investigated  the  circumstances  of  the  poor,  and  then 
furnished  the  necessary  relief  Also,  when  a  woman  on 
the  other  hand  desired  to  go  to  the  bishop,  she  could  only 
do  so  under  the  escort  of  a  deaconess,  for  the  sake  of 
decorum.^"     The  entire  ministrations  of  the  diaconate,  so 


CHAP.  IV.]       OFFICIALS  AND  OFFICES  FOR  CHARITY.  177 

far  as  they  relate  to  women,  are  very  expressly  trans- 
ferred to  deaconesses.  After  first  describing  the  qualities 
of  a  deacon,  it  is  said :  "  And  let  the  woman  (the 
deaconess)  be  zealous  in  assisting  the  women.  But 
both  are. to  undertake  the  offices  of  bringing  messages, 
going  out,  giving  assistance  and  service.  They  are  not 
to  be  ashamed  of  ministering  to  the  poor  after  the  Lord's 
example,  who  came  not  to  be  ministered  to,  but  to 
minister,  and  to  give  His  life  a  ransom  for  many,"  Nay, 
if  needs  be,  they  too  must  not  hesitate  to  lay  down  their 
lives  for  the  brethren,^ 

It  was  just  this  full  development  of  the  diaconal 
office  which  made  it  possible  for  the  bishop  to  practise 
an  individual  care  of  the  poor,  even  to  the  smallest 
details.  The  services  of  deacons  and  deaconesses 
furnished  him  on  the  cue  hand  with  information  of  all 
the  distress  existing  in  the  Church,  and  on  the  other 
gave  him  the  means  of  affording  to  every  one  who  was 
sick  or  poor,  just  the  assistance  his  circumstances  required. 
On  the  one  side  strict  centralization,  on  the  other  the 
utmost  individualization, — such  were  the  advantages  of 
this  organization,  and  those  which  enabled  it  to  produce 
so  great  results. 


CHAPTEE    V. 

THE  WORK  AND  ITS  RESULTS. 

The  work  developed  by  the  Ancient  Churcli  among  the 
distressed  of  every  kind  was  abundant  and  many-sided. 
Justin  Martyr,  Tertullian,  and  the  Apostolical  Constitu- 
tions depict  it  in  quite  similar  words,  a  sign  that  it  was 
pretty  much  the  same  in  the  most  opposite  districts  of 
the  Church,  in  Eome,  in  Africa,  and  in  the  East.  We 
have  already  become  acquainted  with  the  passages 
respecting  it  from  Justin  and  Tertullian,  when  the 
collecting  of  means  for  the  poor  was  spoken  of.  In  the 
Apostolical  Constitutions  the  whole  sphere  of  charity  is 
still  more  fully  described.  It  is  there  made  the  duty  of 
bishops  to  take  care  for  the  maintenance  of  all  who  are 
in  distress,  and  to  let  none  of  them  want.  They  are  to 
supply  to  orphans  the  care  of  parents,  to  widows  that  of 
husbands,  to  help  to  marriage  those  ready  for  marriage, 
to  procure  work  for  those  out  of  work,  to  show  com- 
passion to  those  incapable  of  work,  to  provide  a  shelter 
for  strangers,  food  for  the  hungry,  drink  for  the  thirsty, 
visits  for  the  sick  and  help  for  the  prisoners.^ 

It  was  esteemed  a  general  principle,  that  only  the 
really  needy  were  to  be  relieved,  and  that  these  were 
to  be  supplied  with  only  absolute  necessaries.  Gluttons 
and  idlers,  who  were  in  distress  through  their  own  faults, 
were  excluded  from  support.     They  are  not  worthy  to 

17S 


CHAP,  v.]  THE  WORK  AND  ITS  RESULTS.  179 

be  members  of  the  Church  at  all,  let  alone  living  at  its 
expense.^  On  this  side  the  strict  discipline  of  the 
Church,  by  which  tlie  unworthy  were  excluded,  was  a 
powerful  protection  against  the  waste  of  means  for  the 
poor.  A  supposed  saying  of  our  Lord  Himself,  which  is 
met  with  both  in  Clement  of  Alexandria  and  again  in 
the  Apostolic  Constitutions,  is  appealed  to.  In  Clement 
it  runs  :  "  Woe  to  them  who  have  somewhat  and  yet  out 
of  hypocrisy  and  idleness  let  gifts  be  bestowed  on  them 
by  others,"  and  the  Apostolic  Constitutions  place  it  as  a 
parallel  to  the  Lord's  saying :  "  It  is  more  blessed  to  give 
than  to  receive."  The  same  Lord,  who  thus  speaks,  says 
also  :  "  Woe  to  those  who  have  and  hypocritically  take, 
or  who,  while  they  could  help  themselves,  ratlier  take 
alms  from  others,  for  both  will  have  to  give  account  to 
the  Lord  at  the  day  of  judgment."  He  who  can  himself 
work  and  yet  receives  alms,  robs  the  really  poor  of  his 
bread,  and  the  Lord  will  punish  him  for  it.^  On  the 
other  hand  the  truly  poor,  who,  ])y  reason  of  the  infirmities 
of  age  or  sickness,  are  incapable  of  themselves  earning 
their  bread,  are  highly  esteemed  and  honoured.  It  is  no 
shame  to  them  to  receive  alms.  They  are  the  altar  of 
God,  upon  which  the  Church  lays  its  gifts  ;  and  if  they  on 
their  part  repay  it  as  alone  they  can  repay  it,  with  faithful 
intercessions  for  their  benefactors,  they  wiH  receive  praise 
from  God  in  eternity.* 

Only  necessaries  were  given  to  the  poor.  If  the 
Christians  of  those  days  were  unfavourable  to  luxury 
of  every  kind,  and  very  higlily  esteemed  the  virtue  of 
simplicity  in  all  the  requirements  of  life,  this  was  self- 
evident.  Cyprian  in  one  of  his  letters  gives  directions 
concerning  an  actor,  who  desires  to  become  a  Christian.* 
He  must  give  up  his  business,  and  if  he  can  find  no  other 


180  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [bOOK  II. 

way  of  earning,  he  may  be  received  among  the  number  of 
those  supported  by  the  Churcli,  but  with  the  condition 
that  he  should  be  content  with  frugal  and  simple  food. 
It  is  especially  inculcated  on  the  poor,  that  they  should 
be  contented,  humble,  and  devoted  to  God.  It  is  im- 
pressed upon  them  with  the  utmost  confidence,  that  they 
have  no  right  to  support,  but  that  it  is  free  love  which 
offers  it  to  them.-  They  are  always  to  regard  what  they 
receive  as  the  gift  of  God,  who  bestows  it  upon  them  by 
means  of  His  faithful  ones.  "  The  rich  give  to  the  poor, 
the  poor  praises  God,  for  sending  to  him  some  one,  by 
whom  his  wants  are  supplied,"  as  it  is  said  in  the  Epistle 
of  Clement  of  Eome.^  At  no  time  has  the  Church  more 
strongly  insisted  on  the  duty  of  assisting  the  poor  in  love, 
but  at  no  time  also  has  she  more  decidedly  pronounced, 
that  all  is  love  and  to  be  done  with  justice.  Never  has 
she  more  highly  reverenced  the  poor,  more  kindly  and 
lovingly  treated  them ;  never  also  has  she  been  farther 
from  fostering  beggary,  and  making  their  life  easy  to 
idlers.  Christian  life  was  then  too  earnest,  and  its  view 
too  actively  directed  to  another  world,  for  anything  of  the 
kind  to  occur. 

The  aid  afforded  consisted  first  in  the  distribution  of 
the  necessaries  of  life  in  natural  products.  Those 
presented  as  oblations  were  dispensed  on  the  same  day,  or 
if  anything  was  left,  on  the  second  or  third.^  Those 
regularly  assisted,  the  aged,  the  infirm,  and  those  unable  to 
work  or  not  in  a  condition  to  support  alone  a  large  family, 
received  regular  and  probably  monthly  aid,  each  according 
to  the  bishop's  appointment.  Thus  we  read,  e.g.,  in 
Hippolytus,  that  the  bishop  Victor,  from  compassion, 
allows  Callistus  a  monthly  assistance  for  his  maintenance.^ 
The  lists  of  the  poor,  which  were  probably  now  drawn 


CHAP,  v.]  THE  WORK  AND  ITS  RESULTS,  181 

up,  and  in  which  the  names  of  those  assisted  and  their 
circumstances  were  accurately  notified,  served  to  prevent 
any  being  forgotten,  and  at  the  same  time  any  being 
relieved  whose  circumstances  had  not  been  accurately 
inquired  into.  In  general,  the  help  of  the  deacons,  as 
above  remarked,  rendered  a  great  individualizing  possible 
in  the  relief  of  the  poor.  Every  one  received  the  assist- 
ance which  his  necessities  required.  Efforts  were  above 
all  made  to  render  the  poor,  again  capable  of  work,  and  to 
put  them  in  a  condition  to  earn  their  own  livelihood. 
They  were  directed  where  to  find  work,  and  were  fur- 
nished with  tools.  Where  there  were  still  connections 
or  relatives,  their  aid  was  first  requested ;  they  were  itot 
to  suffer  the  Church  to  be  burdened  with  those  whom  it 
was  their  own  first  duty  to  help.^  If  the  more  the  relief 
to  the  poor  is  individualized,  the  higher  its  value,  that 
which  was  exercised  at  this  period  is  of  a  very  high  rank. 
The  Agapa3  were  still  at  this  time  a  peculiar  kind  of 
assistance  to  the  poor.  Even  after  the  celebration  of  the 
Lord's  Supper  was  separated  from  them  aud  transferred 
to  the  morning  service,  they  continued  to  be  held  as 
occasional  love-feasts  of  the  whole  Church,  to  which  each 
contributed  according  to  his  means.  They  were  tlius  at 
the  same  time  a  help  to  the  poor  in  a  most  dignified 
form,  which  gave  the  poor  a  consciousness  of  forming 
part  of  the  Church.  This  is  expressly  brought  forward  by 
Tertullian,  in  answering  the  reproach  of  exti-avagance 
brought  against  these  meals  by  the  heathen.  Whatever 
they  cost,  it  is  a  gain  to  incur  expense  in  the  name  of 
love  to  one's  neighbour,  for  this  refreshment  is  in  behalf 
of  all  the  poor.  We  do  not,  however,  receive  it  like 
parasites,  who  hold  it  no  dishonour  to  sell  even  their 
liberty,  and  will  put  up  with  any  kind  of  indignity  for  the 


182         CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH,       [book  n. 

price  of  being  able  to  cram  their  bellies,  but  because  the 
consideration  of  the  poor  is  highly  esteemed  by  God. 
ThenTertullian  gives  a  description  of  the  meal,  which,  though 
it  may  perhaps  somewhat  idealize  it,  still  gives  us  so  time  a 
glimpse  of  the  active  brotherly  association  of  all  Christians 
both  rich  and  poor,  who  were  present  at  the  common  table  : 
"  As  the  motive  of  the  feast  is  an  honourable  one,  you  may 
estimate  accordingly  the  regulation  of  the  rest  of  our 
conduct,  how  it  corresponds  with  our  religious  duty,  which 
allows  of  nothing  mean,  nothing  superfluous.  We  do  not 
sit  down  to  table  till  prayer  to  God  has  been  first  tasted ; 
we  eat  as  much  as  the  hungry  need,  we  drink  no  more 
than  serves  the  modest.  We  appease  our  hunger  as  those 
who  know  that  we  must  pray  to  God  even  during  the 
night ;  we  talk  with  the  consciousness  that  the  Lord 
hears  us.  After  we  have  washed  hands  and  the  lamps 
are  lighted,  the  summons  to  praise  God  goes  forth  to  all, 
and  he  who  is  able  to  impart  anything  out  of  the  word  of 
God  or  from  his  own  mind  does  so.  Plerein  lies  the  test  as 
to  how  we  have  drunk.  The  whole  meetin"  closes  with 
prayer,  and  we  do  not  separate  to  commit  improprieties 
in  the  streets,  but  to  continue  our  practice  of  decency, 
because  we  are  not  coming  from  a  drinking  bout,  but  from 
an  exercise  of  propriety  and  modesty."  ^° 

Subsequently  indeed,  when  Tertulliau  had  become  a 
Montanist,  he  would  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  these 
Agapse,  which  he  had  described  as  so  admirable.  He 
applies  to  them  Eom.  xiii.  13,  and  says  derisively,  "  The 
Agapoe  (love)  is  glowing  in  your  kettles,  if  faith  is  hot  in 
the  kitchen,  hope  rests  in  the  plates."  ^^  In  fact  all  sorts 
of  disorders  occurred  at  the  Agap?e,  and  these  were 
sufficient  to  bring  straightforward  minds  like  Tertullian's 
to  reject  them  entirely.    Clement  Alexandrinus^^  too  speaks 


CHAP,  v.]  THE  WORK  AND  ITS  RESULTS.  183 

with  disapprobation  of  the  little  meals  "  at  which  there  is 
an  odour  of  roast  meats  and  sauces/'  and  laments,  that 
"  the  excellent  and  salutary  institution  of  the  Logos,  the 
common  meal,  is  disgraced  with  overturned  saucers."  He 
does  not,  however,  entirely  reject  them  because  of  their 
abuse,  but  only  requires  "  that  the  meal  should  be  simple 
and  frugal."  He  then  grants,  that  "  the  love-feast  is  an 
excellent  nurse  for  public  spirit,  where  contentment  thereat 
is  as  an  abundantly  filled  poor-box."  "  The  pleasures  of 
the  common  meal  possess  a  certain  excitement  for  Chris- 
tian love,  and  are  a  reminder  of  eternal  pleasures.  The 
essence  of  Christian  love  does  not  therefore  lie  in  the 
meal,  which  is  but  something  accessory."  Neverthe- 
less, such  irregularities  as  Clement  assumes,  were  the 
reasons  that  the  Agapae  ceased  as  meals  of  the  whole 
Church.  They  then  became  meals  for  the  poqr,  prepared 
by  any  benevolent  member,  and  only  the  poor  were 
invited.  It  is  as  such  that  the  Apostolical  Constitutions 
and  kindred  writings  are  acquainted  with  them.  Aged 
women  seem  especially  to  have  been  invited.  This,  how- 
ever, was  to  be  through  the  deacon  who  knew  them.  It 
is  strange  to  find  that  such  presbyters  as  were  present  were 
to  receive  a  double  portion,  and  moreover  a  sign  that 
the  original  character  of  these  repasts  was  pretty  well 
obliterated.^^  We  get  further  details  concerning  thera  from 
the  canons  of  Hippolytus  and  the  book  of  Clement. 
These  tell  us,  that  they  were  held  on  Sundays  towards 
evening.  When  the  deacon  had  lighted  the  light,  the 
bishop  prayed  for  the  poor  and  those  who  had  invited 
them.  Then  the  meal  began,  but  no  one  was  to  begin  to 
eat  before  the  presbyter.  All  were  to  eat  in  silence,  and 
not  to  say  anything  unless  the  bishop  or  presbyter  asked 
them  a  question.     Psalms  were  sung  at  the  meal,  aud  all 


184  CIIPJSTIAN  CITAEITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  n. 

were  to  retire  singly  before  darkness  set  in.  This  was 
indeed  no  longer  the  ancient  love-feast,  at  which  the 
whole  church  had  assembled  as  one  family  at  a  common 
table.  The  times  of  such  association  were  over.  But  it 
was  still  an  echo  from  the  older  times.  The  honour  of 
eating  at  the  same  table  as  the  bishop  was  still  accorded 
to  the  poor,  although  on  the  other  hand,  the  rules  which 
prevailed  made  them  plainly  enough  conscious  of  tlie 
distance  between  him  and  themselves.  It  seems  also  that 
the  bishops  then  already  withdrew  from  these  repasts  of 
the  poor,  and  left  their  management  to  the  inferior  officers ' 
of  the  Church.  According  to  the  Apostolical  Constitu- 
tions, the  bishop  was  no  longer  present  at  them.^* 

Of  widows,  so  far  as  they  occupied  a  position  of  honour, 
a  sort  of  office  in  the  Church,  we  have  already  spoken 
above.  Whether  there  were  so  early  as  the  second 
century,  as  Zahn  ^^  thinks,  special  widows'  houses,  in 
which  they  dwelt  as  a  community,  is,  I  think,  doubtful ; 
on  the  other  hand,  such  are  already  presupposed  by  the 
Apostolic  Constitutions.  The  manner  in  which  widows 
are  there  spoken  of  as  living  together  leads  to  this  con- 
clusion. They  had  then  yielded  their  official  duties,  and 
much  of  their  position,  to  the  deaconesses,  but  are  still 
spoken  of  as  a  separate  corporation  apart  from  the  other 
members  of  the  Church.  Only  such  as  were  sixty  years 
of  age,  had  been  but  once  married,  and  were  well  reported 
of,  were  received  into  it,  and  they  then  made  a  promise 
to  remain  unmarried.  Younger  widows  were,  if  they 
required  it,  to  be  otherwise  assisted.  To  such  even  a 
second  marriage  might  be  allowed,  though  this  was 
already  regarded  with  disfavour.^®  It  was  forbidden  to 
widows  to  wander  about  in  the  church,  and  this  on  the 
ground  that  they  are  the  altar  of  God,  and  the  altar  does 


CHAP,  v.]  THE  WORK  AND  ITS  RESULTS.  185 

not  wander  about.  They  are  not  to  be  talkative,  not  to 
solicit  gifts,  but  to  wait  till  something  is  given  them,  and 
then  to  pray  for  the  giver  and  for  the  whole  Church. 
Such  intercession  was  set  before  them  as  the  special  duty 
of  their  lives.^^  Nay,  in  the  Apostolical  Constitutions  a 
liturgical  form  of  prayer  is  prescrilDcd.  If  a  widow  has 
been  clothed  by  any  one,  or  has  received  money,  food, 
drink,  or  shoes,  her  fellow-widows,  on  seeing  their  sister, 
who  has  received  relief,  shall  say :  "  Blessed  be  Thou,  O 
God,  who  hast  refreshed  my  fellow-widow  ;  Lord,  bless 
and  glorify  him  who  has  thus  ministered  to  her,  that  his 
good  work  may  come  up  to  Thee  in  truth,  and  lemember 
him  for  good  in  the  day  of  his  visitation.  Bless  also  my 
bishop,  who  serves  Thee  truly,  and  has  taught  in  due 
time  to  give  alms  to  my  poor  fellow-widow.  Increase 
his  honour,  and  give  him  the  crown  of  glory  when  Thy 
coming  is  manifested."  The  widow,  too,  who  has  received 
the  gift,  is  also  to  pray  with  her  for  the  giver. 

Orphans  as  well  as  widows  are  always  commended  to 
Christian  love.  The  bishop  is  to  have  them  brought  up 
at  the  expense  of  the  Church,  and  to  take  care  that  the 
girls  be  given,  when  of  marriageable  age,  to  Christian 
husbands,  and  that  the  boys  should  learn  some  art  or 
handicraft,  and  then  be  provided  with  tools  and  placed 
in  a  condition  to  earn  their  own  living,  so  that  they  may 
be  no  longer  than  necessary  a  burden  to  the  Cluirch.^^ 
It  would  also  often  happen,  that  individual  nienibors  of 
the  Church  would  receive  orphans,  especially  those  whose 
parents  had  perished  in  a  persecution.  Thus,  e.g.,  was 
Origen  adopted,  after  Leonidas  his  father  had  suffered 
martyrdom,  by  a  pious  woman  in  Alexandria.'^  Again, 
the  child  of  the  female  martyr  Felicitas  found  a  mother,^** 
and  Eusebius  tells  us  of  Severus,  a  Palestinian  confessor. 


186  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [booK  11. 

who  specially  interested  himself  in  the  orphans  and 
v/idows  of  those  who  had  fallen.^^  In  the  Apostolical 
Constitutions,  members  of  the  Church  are  urgently 
exhorted  to  such  acts.  If  any  Christian,  whether  boy 
or  girl,  he  left  an  orphan,  it  is  well  if  one  of  the  brethren, 
who  has  no  child,  receives  and  keeps  him  in  a  child's 
place.  They  who  do  so  perform  a  good  work,  by  becoming 
fathers  to  the  orphans,  and  will  be  rewarded  by  God  for 
this  service.^^  Of  foundlings  nothing  is  at  this  time 
expressly  mentioned,  but  with  the  wide  dissemination  of 
the  custom  of  exposing  children,  which  was  never  esteemed 
a  crime  by  the  heathen,  we  may  safely  conclude,  that 
Christians  took  pity  on  these  unfortunate  creatures,  and 
bestowed  upon  them  the  care  which  their  imnatural 
parents  had  denied  them.  If  Tertullian  in  his  Apologdicus 
represents  to  the  heathen  with  such  terrible  earnestness, 
that  the  exposing  of  children  is  murder,^^  Christians 
would  also  regard  it  as  murder  not  to  take  charge  of  a 
foundling ;  and  if  Lactantius  ^^  reminds  the  heathen,  that 
it  is  ungodly  to  leave  children  to  the  compassion  of 
strangers,  Christians  certainly  would  not  have  suffered 
themselves  to  be  devoid  of  such  compassion.  When  we 
first  meet  with  the  mention  of  the  adoption  and  bringing 
up  of  foundlings,  this  work  appears  not  as  a  novelty,  but 
as  one  long  practised.  It  is  true  that  the  heathen  also 
used  to  take  care  of  exposed  children,  but  for  the  purpose 
of  bringing  them  up  as  gladiators  or  prostitutes,  or  to  use 
them  in  their  own  service,  for  a  healthy  child  belonged 
as  a  slave  to  any  who  harboured  it.  Christians  brought 
up  the  children  whom  they  took  charge  of  for  the  Lord, 
and  for  a  respectable  and  industrious  life. 

As  yet  there  were  no  hospitals.     The  .sick  were  attended 
to  in  their  own  houses.     The  bishop,  the  presbyters  and 


CHAP,  v.]  THE  WOEK  AND  ITS  KESULTS.  187 

deacons,  visited  them  there.  "  It  is  a  great  thing  for  one 
who  is  sick,"  it  is  said  in  the  canons  of  Hippolytus,  "to 
be  visited  by  the  chief  among  the  priests.  He  not  seldom 
recovers  from  his  sickness  if  the  bishop  comes  to  him, 
especially  if  he  prays  over  him.^  A  deacon  is  to  accom- 
pany the  bishop."  The  book  of  Clement  speaks  still 
more  particularly.  The  deacon  is  to  find  out  whether 
the  sick  person  is  in  distress,  and  then  to  provide  all  that 
is  necessary  for  his  case.^^ 

The  grandest  manifestations  of  Christian  compassion 
took  place  in  the  times  of  those  great  calamities,  which 
broke  in  upon  the  Eoman  Empire  in  increasingly  rapid 
succession  during  the  third  century.  A  fearful  pestilence 
was  then  going  about,  and  making  its  appearance  now  in 
one  place,  now  in  another.  In  Cyprian's  days  it  broke 
out  in  Carthage.  The  bishop's  biography  gives  us  a 
moving  description  of  the  almost  entire  dissolution  of  all 
ties  which  was  the  result  of  the  pestilence.^^  "  There 
was  a  general  panic.  All  fled.  All  avoided  contact  with 
the  infected,  and  let  their  relations  lie  without  help,  as 
though  they  could  thus  keep  death  at  a  distance.  There 
were  corpses  lying  about  in  the  street  throughout  the 
town.  No  one  thought  of  anything  else  than  of  making 
horrible  profits.  No  one  did  to  another  what  he  would 
have  wished  done  to  himself."  Almost  more  strongly 
does  Cyprian  himself,  in  his  apologetic  book  to  Demetri- 
anus,  describe  the  selfishness  of  the  heathen,  which,  as  is, 
alas !  so  often  the  case,  broke  out  in  this  general  distress. 
"  No  compassion  is  shown  by  you  to  the  sick,  only 
covetousness  and  plunder  open  their  jaws  over  the  dead ; 
they  who  are  too  fearful  for  the  work  of  mercy,  are  bold 
for  guilty  profits.  They  who  shun  to  bury  the  dead,  are 
greedy   for   what  they  have  left  behind   them."  ^^     He 


188         CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  II. 

reproaclies  them  with  leaving  the  sick  in  the  lurch  for 
the  sake  of  taking  possession  of  their  property  after  tlieir 
death.  "  They  run  about  everywhere  to  plunder,  to  take 
possession."  ^^  It  was  quite  different  with  the  Cliristians. 
Of  them  Cyprian  says,  they  would  more  have  broken  the 
storm  themselves  than  have  been  broken  by  it.  With 
burning  words  did  the  bishop  summon  them  to  give 
their  assistance,  and,  as  was  his  nature,  himself  energeti- 
cally organize  them.  Services  were  allotted  to  each,  says 
his  biographer,  according  to  their  individual  ability .^° 
Some  gave  money,  others  their  personal  assistance. 
*'  Who  would  not  have  hastened  under  such  a  teacher  to 
be  found  taking  some  part  in  this  warfare  ? "  Thus  the 
sick  were  nursed,  the  dead  interred.  The  heathen,  too, 
had  a  share  in  the  deeds  and  sacrifices  of  love.  "For," 
preached  Cyprian,  "  if  we  only  do  good  to  those  who  do 
good  to  us,  what  do  we  more  than  the  heatliens  and 
publicans  ?  If  we  are  the  children  of  God,  who  makes 
His  sun  to  shine  upon  good  and  bad,  and  sends  rain  on 
the  just  and  the  unjust,  let  us  prove  it  by  our  acts,  by 
blessing  those  who  curse  us,  and  doing  good  to  those  who 
persecute  us."  ^^ 

The  pestilence  raged  in  Alexandria  under  the  Emperor 
Gallienus.  Eusebius  has  preserved  a  letter  of  Dionysius, 
then  its  bishop,  in  which  he  describes  the  conduct  of  tlie 
Christians  during  this  visitation  :^^  "Most  of  our  brethren, 
in  the  fulness  of  their  brotherly  love,  did  not  spare  them- 
selves. They  mutually  took  care  of  each  other,  and  as 
instead  of  preserving  themselves  they  attended  on  the 
sick,  and  willingly  did  them  service  for  Christ's  sake,  they 
joyfully  laid  down  their  lives  with  them.  Many  died 
after  having  been  by  their  exertions  the  means  of  restoring 
others.     The  best  among  the  brethren,  many  presbyters, 


CHAP,  v.]  THE  WOEK  AND  ITS  RESULTS.  189 

deacons,  and  distinguished  laymen  ended  their  lives  in 
this  manner,  so  that  their  deaths,  which  were  the  result 
of  piety  and  strong  faith,  seem  not  inferior  to  martyrdom. 
Many  who  took  into  their  hands  and  laid  upon  their 
bosoms  the  bodies  of  Christian  brothers,  closed  their 
mouths  and  eyes,  and  reverently  interred  them,  soon 
followed  them  in  death.  It  was  quite  different  with  the 
heathen.  They  thrust  out  those  who  w^ere  beginning  to 
sicken,  fled  from  those  who  were  dearest,  and  cast  the 
dying  into  the  streets ;  they  let  the  dead  lie  unburied  in 
their  desire  to  avoid  infection,  which  nevertheless  they 
could  not  escape."  It  was  the  same  when  this  city 
suffered  from  famine  and  pestilence  under  Maximus. 
While  the  heathen  quite  lost  courage,  and  each  thought 
only  of  his  own  preservation,  the  Christians  were  active 
throughout  the  whole  city.  Some  distributed  bread  to 
the  hungry,  others  attended  on  the  sick,  others  again  took 
care  for  the  interment  of  the  dead,  so  that  even  the 
heathen  praised  the  God  of  the  Christians,  and  declared, 
that  Christians  alone  were  pious  and  godly. ^^ 

It  was  at  other  times  also  esteemed  a  work  of  mercy  to 
bury  the  dead.  Lactantius^  reckons  the  interment  of 
strangers  and  of  the  poor  as  among  the  duties  which 
humanity  imposes  on  men.  He  reproaches  the  heathen 
for  their  neglect  of  this  duty,  and  for  their  estimation  of 
duties  only  according  to  their  utility.  It  is  indeed 
indifferent  to  the  dead  whether  they  are  buried  or  not. 
"  But  we  will  not  suffer  the  image  and  creature  of  God  to 
be  thrown  for  a  prey  to  the  wild  beasts  and  birds,  but  will 
give  it  back  to  the  earth  from  which  it  was  taken,  and 
fulfil  to  even  an  unknown  man  the  office  of  his  relations, 
into  whose  place,  if  they  be  absent,  humanity  steps."  It 
belonged,  as  we  have  seen,  to  the  duties  of  the  deacons  to 


190  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  II. 

provide  for  the  interment  of  the  poor  and  of  strangers  ;  nay, 
even  the  corpses  cast  up  by  the  sea,  found,  through  the 
love  of  Christians,  a  decent  grave. 

With  special  love  did  the  Church,  mindful  of  our  Lord's 
words  :  "  I  was  in  prison,  and  ye  came  unto  me,"  interest 
herself  in  prisons  and  prisoners.  For  this  there  was 
plenty  of  opportunity.  There  were  not  only  brethren 
cast  into  prison  for  the  sake  of  the  faith,  of  provision  for 
whom  we  shall  soon  have  to  speak  more  particularly, — 
there  were  also  prisoners  of  war,  for  the  inroads  of  the 
barbarians  became  increasingly  frequent  even  in  the  third 
century ;  there  were  at  all  times  many  who  were  impri- 
soned for  the  non-payment  of  taxes,  and  debtors  who  were 
kept  in  prison  by  reason  of  the  severity  of  the  Eoman  laws 
of  debt,  because  they  could  not  meet  their  engagements 
to  private  individuals.  It  is  of  such  imprisoned  debtors 
that  we  must  especially  think,  when  Ignatius  and  the 
Apostolical  Constitutions  name  the  liberation  of  prisoners, 
together  with  the  maintenance  of  widows  and  orphans,  as 
a  conspicuous  portion  of  the  Christian  exercise  of  mercy .^ 
That  prisoners  of  war  also  were  ransomed,  and  often  in 
great  numbers,  an  example  has  been  given  in  the  noble 
deed  of  the  bishop  of  Carthage  already  mentioned. 

Among  the  captives  may  also  be  reckoned^  slaves, 
whose  lot,  though  it  gradually  became  milder,  was  still 
one  of  great  hardship.  On  them,  too.  Christian  love  had 
compassion,  only  not  in  such  wise  as  to  labour  for  an 
emancipatien  of  slaves,  as  the  Church  has  been  here  and 
there  represented  to  have  done.  This,  on  the  contrary, 
lay  entirely  beyond  her  horizon.  She  simply  recognised 
slavery,  as  well  as  the  other  institutions  of  civil  life. 
Emancipation  theories,  in  connection  with  communistic 
ideas,  do   indeed    make    their    appearance    among    the 


CHAP,  v.]  THE  WORK  AND  ITS  EESULTS.  191 

Gnostics,  but  cannot  be  found  in  the  Church.  She 
occupied  just  as  neutral  a  position  with  respect  to  tlui 
contrast  of  bond  and  free,  as  to  that  of  rich  and  poor. 
All  might  be  Christians,  all  might  have  a  share  in  th ; 
kingdom  of  God,  whether  bond  or  free.  "If  I  am  a 
slave,  I  bear  it ;  if  I  am  free,  I  glory  in  my  free  birth,"  is 
a  saying  found  in  Tatian.^^  Nay,  Tertullian  speaks  in  a 
depreciatory  manner  of  civil  freedom,  as  of  somethin^f 
which  to  Christians,  who  know  of  a  better  liberty,  is  of 
no  value.  "  The  freedom  of  the  man  of  this  world  put ; 
on  a  wreath."  (It  was  the  custom  for  freedmen  to  put  on 
a  wreath  to  express  their  joy  at  their  freedom.)  "  But  thou 
art  already  ransomed  by  Clu'ist,  and  at  a  high  price. 
How  should  the  world  be  able  to  give  liberty  to  one  who 
is  in  another's  service  ?  If  it  looks  as  if  one  were  free, 
it  is  just  as  clear  that  he  is  still  in  servitude.  All  that 
is  ill  the  world  is  appearance,  and  nothing  in  it  is  truth. 
For  before,  thou  wast,  as  one  redeemed  by  Christ,  free 
from  the  authority  of  man,  and  now  thou  art  a  bond- 
servant of  Christ,  though  set  free  by  man  !"^  Or  if  wc 
are  to  suppose,  that  it  is  the  strict  Montanist  wlio  is  hero 
speaking,  we  meet  with  essentially  the  same  views  in 
Lactantius,^  who  makes  the  distinction  between  bond  and 
free  exactly  parallel  to  that  between  rich  and  poor.  To  the 
objection,  that  there  are  still  among  Christians  rich  and 
poor,  bond  and  free,  and  that  it  is  therefore  all  over  with 
equality  and  brotherly  love,  he  replies  :  "  We  estimate 
human  affairs  not  according  to  the  standard  of  the  body, 
but  of  the  spirit.  Hence  our  servants,  though  occupyinfj; 
a  different  position  according  to  the  body,  are  still  not  oui- 
servants,  but  we  esteem  them  in  spirit  as  our  brethren,  and 
in  religion  as  our  fellow-servants ; "  and  then  he  refers  to 
the  fact,  that  in  this  life  everything  is  transitory  and  oi 


192  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  n. 

short  duration.  Hence  it  is  in  truth  indifferent,  whether 
a  man  is  a  slave  or  a  free  man.  Let  us  not  forget  the 
powerful  attraction  towards  another  world  with  which 
Christianity  is  affected.  This  life  is  short,  and  its  aims 
are  upwards.  If  the  slave  may,  just  as  much  as  the  free 
man,  have  a  share  in  the  future  glory,  it  is  indeed  a 
matter  of  indifference  whether  he  is  free  during  the  short 
span  of  time  in  this  world. 

Nowhere  then  is  there  found  a  trace  of  the  keeping  of 
slaves  being  thought  wrong  on  the  part  of  a  Christian. 
Clement  Alexandrinus  assumes  it  as  self-evident,  that 
Christians  as  well  as  others  should  have  slaves,  and  when 
he  condemns  a  large  establishment  of  servants,  he  does  so 
only  in  the  same  sense  in  which  he  reproves  all  luxury. 
"When,  in  the  Apostolic  Constitutions,  Christians  are 
exhorted  to  go  but  seldom  to  the  market,  and  then  only 
to  purchase  necessaries,  slaves  are  mentioned  among  such 
necessaries  without  the  slightest  scruple.^"  The  Church, 
too,  never  urged  the  manumission  of  slaves  or  made  this  a 
Christian  duty.  Manumissions  did  occur,  but  certainly 
not  often,  or  we  should  have  heard  more  of  them ;  they 
were  not  indeed  so  frequent  among  Christians  as  among 
heathens.  The  heathen  often  freed  their  slaves  from 
impure  motives,  for  the  sake  of  fame,  or  pomp,  that  very 
many  might  follow  at  their  funeral  with  the  hat,  the 
token  of  manumission,  and  even  for  the  sake  of  gain,  that 
they  might  get  more  profit  out  of  freedmen  than  they 
could  out  of  slaves.  All  these  motives  were  lacking  with 
Christians,  nay,  they  would  have  regarded  it  as  an  act  of 
injustice  to  give  their  slaves  liberty  for  such  reasons. 
On  the  contrary.  Christian  masters  had  a  special  motive 
for  keeping  their  slaves,  viz.,  that  they  might  have  the 
opportunity  of  exercising  a  religious  and  moral  influence 


CHAP,  v.]  THE  WOEK  AND  ITS  KESULTS.  193 

upon  them,  and  of  winning  them  for  Christ.  A  slave  was 
much  better  off  with  a  truly  Christian  master,  than  a  freed- 
man  cast  out  by  his  owner  into  a  world  in  which  free 
labour  was  so  little  esteemed.  During  this  whole  period, 
I  only  find  two  passages  in  which  the  liberation  of  slaves  is 
certainly  spoken  of.  In  the  Apostolical  Constitutions  it  is 
reckoned  among  the  works  of  love,'*^  in  what  sense  we 
shall  hereafter  have  an  opportunity  of  observing ;  and 
Ignatius,  in  his  Epistle  to  Polycarp,'*^  exhorts  slaves  not  to 
wish  to  be  ransomed  by  the  Church,  that  they  be  not 
found  to  be  the  slaves  of  desire.  From  this  passage  it 
appears,  that  slaves  were  then  indeed  ransomed  at  the 
cost  of  the  Church,  but  Ignatius  desires  that  slaves  are 
not  to  press  for  this,  lest  they  thus  become  slaves 
indeed,  slaves  of  their  own  desire.  We  must  conceive  of 
the  state  of  affairs  so  as  to  consider,  that  cases  would 
occasionally  occur,  in  which  his  relation  to  his  master 
would  make  it  just  impossible  for  a  slave  to  lead  a  truly 
Christian  life,  or  in  which  this  was  in  the  highest  degree 
endangered.  Then,  indeed,  the  Church  took  tlie  case  in' 
hand,  and  liberated  the  slave  from  such  a  condition.  But 
slaves  were  not  to  think  they  had  a  right  to  this,  they 
were  not  to  think  themselves  too  good  as  Christians 
to  perform  servile  labour,  and  not  to  make  themselves 
slaves  to  an  unchristian  desire  for  worldly  freedom.  In 
fact,  what  we  find  related  in  contemporary  delineations 
of  the  efforts  of  the  Church,  to  give  liberty  to  slaves,  is 
only  true  of  spiritual  liberty  ;  if  we  understand  it  of 
numerous  manumissions,  it  is  inconsistent  with  facts.  As 
a  rule  the  slave  remained  a  slave,  even  when  he  became 
a  Christian,  and  the  Christian  master  kept  his  slaves  as 
before,  but  the  slave  served  and  the  master  ruled  in  a 
different  manner  from  what  they  formerly  did. 

N 


194  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  II. 

It  was  in  this  respect  that  the  change  was  effected. 
Everywhere  we  meet  with  exhortations  both  to  slaves 
to  obey,  and  to  masters  to  be  just,  kind,  and  gentle 
towards  their  slaves.  They  are  not  to  be  used,  says 
Clement  of  Alexandria,  like  beasts,  but  the  Christian 
master  must  treat  his  Christian  slave  like  a  son  or  a 
brother,  for  the  sake  of  their  common  faith.*^  If  the 
heathen  treated  them  like  things,  like  bodies  without 
souls,  the  Christian  was  to  esteem  it  his  duty  to  take  an 
interest  in  his  slaves,  to  bring  them  to  knowledge  and  to 
faith.  "  We  reject  none,"  says  Origan,*^ "  not  even  the  rude 
slave.  "We  turn  to  him  as  to  an  ignorant  woman  or  child, 
to  improve  him ;  "  and  in  another  place,^®  "  We  instruct  the 
slave  how  to  gain  the  disposition  of  a  free  man,  and  to 
obtain  through  faith  true  freedom."  The  Church  was  as 
open  to  the  slave  as  to  the  free.  It  is  true  that  at  his 
admission,  the  consent  of  his  master  was,  at  least  in  the 
third  century,  required,  and  if  the  latter  were  a  Christian, 
required  absolutely.  If  he  were  a  heathen,  his  refusal 
was  only  regarded,  in  case  the  master  could  prove  a 
hostile  disposition  in  his  slave  towards  him.  The  Church 
was  not  to  serve  as  a  refuge  to  slaves,  who  were 
either  disobedient  or  of  hostile  disposition  to  their 
masters.'*®  But  if  the  slave  was  received  into  the  Church, 
there  was  no  distinction  between  him  and  the  free  man. 
Where  the  Apostolical  Constitutions  treat  of  places  in  the 
Church,  there  is  not  a  trace  of  separate  places  for  slaves. 
The  slave  sat  with  his  master,  ate  of  the  same  bread  and 
drank  of  the  same  cup.  Every  office  too  was  open  to 
him.  Callistus  from  a  slave  became  bishop  of  Home. 
Slaves,  who  with  free  men  had  obtained  the  highest  crown, 
were  honoured  by  the  Church  among  the  martyrs.  With 
all  this  the  slave  continued  bound  to  obey  his  master,  the 


CHAP.  V.J  THE  WOKK  AND  ITS  RESULTS.  195 

only  difference  being,  that  his  obedience  was  limited  by 
the  commandment  of  God.  If  his  master  bid  him  do 
anything  contrary  to  the  command  of  God  and  of  Christ, 
the  slave  must  not  obey.  In  the  persecutions  of  Diocletian, 
certain  Christian  masters  had  caused  sacrifices  to  be  offered 
for  them  by  their  slaves,  for  the  sake  of  escaping  persecu- 
tion. The  Church  punished  the  masters  with  a  penance 
of  three  years,  the  slave  with  a  penance  of  one  year,^^  for  by 
their  obedience  to  their  masters  according  to  the  flesh,  they 
had  violated  their  obedience  to  Clirist.  Thus  the  slave 
was  looked  upon  as  self-responsible,  as  thougli  a  bond- 
servant yet  free  in  conscience  even  with  respect  to  his 
master.  The  Church  also  came  to  the  slave's  assistance  with 
its  means  of  punishment.  According  to  the  Apostolical 
Constitutions,*^  the  bishop  was  to  receive  no  oblation  from 
those  who  ill-used  their  slaves,  and  the  Synod  of  Elvira  (3  05) 
determines,  that  a  woman  who  in  anger  so  strikes  her 
slave,  that  she  dies  within  three  days,  is  to  be  excluded 
from  the  communion  for  seven  years  if  it  were  done  inten- 
tionally, for  five  if  it  were  done  accidentally.'^^  It  is  sad 
enough  to  think,  that  it  was  necessary  to  threaten  such 
punishments,  and  a  sign  to  how  slight  a  depth  Christianity 
had  penetrated.  While  the  condition  of  slaves  ought  to 
have  been  progressively  improving,  such  appointments 
prove,  alas  !  that  it  again  became  worse,  and  we  shall 
subsequently  hear  still  more  of  such  examples. 

Special  tasks  were  imposed  on  Christian  charity  in 
times  of  persecution.  Poverty  and  distress  might  easily 
become  a  strong  temptation  to  apostasy.  Persecution 
too  inflicted  material  damage  on  many,  their  business 
suffered,  they  were  entirely  withdrawn  from  it,  when  they 
were  either  thrown  into  prison,  exiled,  or  compelled  to 
flee.    Confiscations  also  took  place,  or  the  houses  of  Chris- 


196  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [boOK  n. 

tians  were  plundered  by  the  heathen  populace.  In 
such  times  the  bond  of  love  had  to  prove  itself  the  firmer, 
and  it  was  needful  that  those  whose  lot  it  was  to  answer 
for  their  faith  in  prisons,  in  mines,  before  tribunals,  should 
know  themselves  to  be  supported  by  the  whole  com- 
munity. Hence  it  is  that  Cyprian  so  very  specially 
exhorts  to  zealous  care  for  tlie  poor  during  the  Deciau 
persecution :  "  Let  neither  your  care  nor  your  zeal  be 
lacking — as  I  wrote  to  you  before — to  the  poor,  especi- 
ally to  those  who,  fighting  firmly  and  bravely  in  the  faith 
with  ourselves,  have  not  forsaken  the  camp  of  Christ. 
"We  must  bestow  all  the  greater  care  and  diligence  upon 
them,  because,  neither  conquered  by  poverty,  nor  over- 
thrown by  the  storm  of  persecution,  they  faithfully  serve 
the  Lord  and  give  the  rest  of  the  poor  an  example  of 
faith." ^  Meantime  have  as  much  care  as  ever  you  can 
for  the  poor,  even  for  those  who,  standing  in  unshaken 
faith,  have  not  forsaken  the  flock  of  Christ,  so  that  what 
is  necessaiy  for  their  support  under  their  privations  may 
be  bestowed  on  them  by  your  zeal,  lest  distress  should 
effect  in  the  sufferers  what  the  storm  of  persecution  was, 
as  to  their  faith,  unable  to  accomplish.^^ 

If  a  Christian  were  cast  into  prison  on  account  of  his 
faith,  the  Church  cared  for  him  with  the  greatest  zeal. 
He  was  visited,  he  received  necessary  provisions,  and  also 
the  means  of  procuring  from  the  soldiers  and  gaolers  all 
kinds  of  alleviations.  Tertullian,  speaking  of  the  destina- 
tion of  the  gifts  of  love  administered  in  assemblies,  men- 
tions'^ also  the  maintenance  of  those  who  are  in  mines, 
in  islands,  and  in  prisons,  supposing  only  that  they  suffer 
merely  for  the  sake  of  God.  Cyprian,  in  his  epistles,^ 
gives  directions  how  the  confessors  were  to  be  received. 
The  Apostolical  Constitutions  most  impressively  lay  this 


CHAP,  v.]  THE  WORK  AND  ITS  RESULTS.  197 

duty  upon  the  heart  of  the  members  of  the  Church, 
certainly  not  without  some  admixture  of  that  increased 
veneration  of  the  martyrs,  which  appeared  in  the  later 
times  of  the  persecutions  :  ^  "  If  a  Christian  is  condemned 
to  the  combat,  or  to  be  thrown  to  the  wild  beasts,  or  sent 
to  the  mines  for  the  sake  of  his  faith  and  love  to  God, 
you  are  not  to  despise  him,  but  to  send  to  him  of  your 
labour  and  of  the  sweat  of  your  brow,  wherewith  to  live 
and  to  pay  the  soldiers  their  fees,  that  he  may  obtain 
some  alleviation  and  be  cared  for.  For  he  who  is  con- 
demned for  the  sake  of  God's  name,  is  a  brother  of  the 
Lord,  a  son  of  the  Almighty,  a  vessel  of  the  Holy  Spirit. 
Therefore,  all  ye  believers,  send  of  your  possessions  for 
the  help  of  the  saints  through  your  bishop.  But  if  any 
one  has  nothing,  let  him  fast,  and  appoint  the  day's  pro- 
visions for  the  saints.  But  if  any  has  superfluity,  let 
him  give  more  in  proportion  to  his  property.  Nay,  if 
any  can  free  them  from  prison  by  the  sacrifice  of  his 
whole  property,  he  will  be  blessed  and  a  friend  of  Christ. 
For  if  he,  who  even  gives  his  goods  to  the  poor,  is  perfect, 
how  much  more  will  he  be  perfect,  who  devotes  all  for 
the  martyrs  ! "  Christians  are  then  also  admonished  to 
visit  the  prisoners  at  peril  of  themselves  becoming  martyrs, 
and  to  let  themselves  be  hindered  by  neither  shame  nor 
fear. 

The  lot  of  those  sent  to  work  in  the  mines  was  the 
hardest.  With  scanty  fare,  almost  naked,  cruelly  treated 
by  harsh  and  unpitying  overseers,  they  were  compelled  to 
do  the  hardest  and  most  disagreeable  work,  so  that  most 
succumbed  after  a  short  period.  Of  these  sufferers  Chris- 
tian love  then  took  even  extraordinary  care.  The  liomish 
Church  is  especially  praised  by  the  Bishop  Dionysius  of 
Corinth  for  having  sent  help  every  where,^^  and  among  the 


198  CHRISTIAN  CHAEITY  IN  ANCIENT  CIIUECH.       [booK  H. 

Epistles  of  Cyprian  are  found  many  letters  of  thanks  from 
Christians  in  the  mines,  in  which  they  express  their 
gratitude  for  gifts,  which  the  bishop  had  sent  them 
through  a  sub-deacon  and  several  acolytes,  together  with 
letters  of  condolence.^  It  is  felt  from  the  letters  what 
refreshment  such  gifts  must  have  afforded  to  the  poor 
creatures  under  sentence,  furnishing  them  besides  the 
assurance,  that  the  Church  at  home  was  mindful  of  them, 
suffered  and  struggled  with  them.  It  is  a  touching  proof 
how  far  Christianity  had  inwardly  altered  the  relation  of 
master  and  slave,  that  at  the  close  of  one  of  the  letters,  a 
slave  sends  special  greeting  to  liis  master.  And  how 
must  it  have  raised  the  courage  of  the  confessors  to  know 
that  their  belongings  were  cared  for,  that  wife  and  children 
would  not  be  allowed  to  want,  if  they  themselves  suffered 
death  in  prison  or  at  the  place  of  execution  !  Lactantius 
once  expressly  refers  to  this  :  ^^  "  God  has  on  this  account 
commanded  us  to  defend  and  provide  for  the  widows  and 
orphans,  that  no  one  may  let  himself  be  kept  back,  by 
compassion  or  regard  for  the  pledges  of  his  love,  from 
dying  for  righteousness'  sake,  but  may  witliout  hesitation 
boldly  incur  death,  knowing  that  he  leaves  his  loved  ones 
to  God,  and  that  help  and  protection  will  never  be  want- 
ing to  them." 

The  highly  esteemed  virtue  of  hospitality  too  is  only 
rightly  appreciated,  when  the  condition  of  Christians  in 
the  times  of  persecution  is  considered.  This  virtue 
indeed  seems  least  of  all  a  novelty  or  one  peculiar 
to  Christians.  And  yet  Christian  entirely  differed  from 
heathen  hospitality.  Lactantius  calls  the  hospitality  of 
the  heathen  just  ambition,  its  aim  being  not  to  succour 
the  poor  and  needy,  but  by  the  reception  of  "  illustrious 
guests,"  as  Cicero  expresses  it,  to  oblige  others,  and  to 


CHAP,  v.]  THE  WORK  AND  ITS  RESULTS.  199 

gain  respect  and  power  abroad  also.  Lactantius  thinks, 
that  Cicero  in  hospitality  really  had  his  own  advantage 
in  view,  and  yet  desired  also  to  be  considered  humane.*^ 
With  the  Christian  it  is  not  the  important  guest  who  is 
received,  but  the  Christian  brother,  independently  of  who 
or  what  he  is. '  It  was  in  this  sense  that  hospitality  was 
inculcated,  in  this  sense  that  it  was  everywhere  exercised. 
Bishop  Melito,  of  Sardis,  wrote  an  entire  book  upon 
hospitality,^  and  it  is  always  placed  in  the  first  rank,  in 
accordance  with  the  apostolic  exhortations,  wherever  the 
exercises  of  Christian  compassion  are  spoken  of."*'  It  is 
among  the  chief  qualifications  of  a  bishop  to  be  hospit- 
able,^^ and  Cyprian  not  only  by  word  lays  it  on  the 
heart  of  the  presbyters  left  at  Carthage  to  entertain 
strangers,  but  furnishes  them  also  with  means  to  do  so 
from  his  own  property."^  Clement  of  Eome  praises  the 
Corinthian  Church  for  receiving  those  who  came  there 
with  liberal  hospitality,^  and  Bishop  Dionysius  of  Corinth 
in  return  praises  the  Eomish  Church  for  the  same  virtue.^ 
It  was  among  the  duties  of  a  bishop  to  receive  and  pro- 
vide for  strangers.  As  yet,  houses  for  their  reception  did 
not  exist ;  ^  if  the  bishop's  house  were  not  large  enough, 
they  were  taken  to  that  of  some  member  of  the  Church. 
Tertullian  assumes  it  as  self-evident  of  the  Christian 
woman,  that  she  should  receive  into  her  house  and  enter- 
tain brethren  from  a  distance.*^  The  abuse  whicli  was 
made  of  the  hospitality  of  the  Church,  necessitated  pre- 
cautions for  keeping  away  false  brethren  and  also  spies 
and  vagabonds.  No  brother  was  received,  who  Nvas  unable 
to  authenticate  himself  as  a  member  of  the  Church,  by  a 
letter  of  introduction.  Only  the  bishop  could  issue  such 
letters,  for  communion  with  the  bishop  is  Church  com- 
munion.     But  afterwards,  when  even  such  letters  were 


200  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  IL 

forged,  it  was  found  necessary  to  give  them  an  appointed 
/orm  {Literce  formatce)  for  the  purpose  of  preventing 
forgeries,  or  at  least  making  them  more  difficult.  The 
Synod  of  Niceea  is  said  to  have  passed  resolutions  on  this 
account,  prescribing  the  use  of  certain  artificial  combina- 
tions of  the  three  letters  representing  the  Trinity,  tt  v  a 
(Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost),  to  be  placed  on  the  letters. 
Whether  this  resolution  was,  however,  of  so  early  a  date 
is  questionable."^  But  all,  who  brought  with  them  proper 
and  genuine  letters  of  introduction,  were  received  and 
entertained  as  brethren. 

Hospitality  thus  regulated  was  of  great  importance  to 
the  development  of  the  Church.  As  each  separate  church 
formed  a  family,  so  also  did  the  whole  Church  through  this 
exercise  of  hospitality.  "  The  whole  sphere  was  united  by 
the  exchange  of  letters  of  introduction  into  one  community," 
says  Optatus  of  Mileve,  This  was  the  more  valuable, 
inasmuch  as  the  ties  of  constitution  and  government,  which 
serve  to  otherwise  keep  the  Church  together,  were  at 
this  time  lacking.  Each  church,  each  bishop,  was  as  yet 
very  independent.  Intercourse  was,  however,  very  active. 
There  was  much  travelling,  if  not  as  much  as  with  us  at 
present,  at  any  rate  more  than  with  us  a  hundred  years 
ago.  Hospitality  brought  about  a  constant  exchange  of 
intercourse  between  the  different  churches.  They  heard 
of  and  learnt  from  each  other,  suggestions  of  all  kinds 
came  and  went,  and  in  times  of  distress  and  persecution 
they  could  the  more  easily  assist  each  other.*'^ 

By  sucli  mutually  rendered  assistance,  love  stretched 
out  her  hands  beyond  the  individual  church.  Where  a 
church  fell  into  special  trouble,  it  found  prompt  and  will- 
ing assistance  from  others,  who  were  for  the  time  more 
favourably  circumstanced.      When  the  Numidian  bishops 


CHAP,  v.]  THE  WOEK  AND  ITS  EESULTS,  201 

could  not  raise  the  means  for  the  ransom  of  the  prisoners 
in  their  own  churches,  they  applied  to  Cyprian,  and  the 
Carthaginian  churches  collected  what  was  lacking.  Even 
in  the  time  of  Basil  the  Great,  the  church  of  Ctesarea,  in 
Cappadocia,  remembered  that  Dionysius,  bishop  of  Rome 
(259-269),  had  sent  them  a  letter  of  condolence,  when 
they  were  in  great  affliction  through  the  incursions  of 
the  Barbarians,  and  accompanied  it  with  money  for  tlie 
ransom  of  prisoners.  The  letter  was  then  still  preserved  in 
the  church.^^  It  is  also  elsewhere  said  of  the  eminently 
flourishing  and  affluent  Eomish  Church,  that  it  was  always 
ready  to  succour  other  churches ;  ^"^  and  certainly  such 
services  contributed  not  a  little  to  procure  for  the  Church 
of  the  world's  metropolis,  the  illustrious  and  subsequently 
dominant  position  which  it  occupied. 

In  all  these  respects  we  get  a  view  in  some  degree  of 
the  ample  blessing  with  wliich  the  charity  of  this  period 
was  crowned.  The  result  already  was,  that  in  the  Christian 
churches  there  were  actually  no  beggars,  and  none  who 
suffered  want.  If  Julian  was  constrained  against  his  will 
to  testify  this  of  Christians  even  in  his  days,  when  circum- 
stances had  become  far  more  unfavourable,  how  much  more 
does  it  apply  to  those  of  which  we  are  treating  !  But  that 
we  may  not  over-estimate  this  result,  we  must  certainly 
remember,  that  the  churches  were  still  small,  and  that 
financial  circumstances  did  not  as  yet  point  to  such 
distress  as  afterwards.  This  external  result,  however,  is 
not  the  only  nor  the  greatest  result.  How  far  the  charity 
of  a  period  may  be  successful  in  overcoming  its  poverty, 
depends  upon  other  conditions  than  merely  the  intense 
vitality  of  its  love.  Far  more  highly  must  we  estimate 
the  blessing  obtained  by  the  Church  itself,  from  this 
labour  of  love,  and  the  impression  produced  thereby  upon 


202  CHUISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [booK  II. 

the  heathen.  Besides  the  courageous  faith,  and  happiness 
in  death  of  Christians,  it  was  above  all  their  love  which 
at  last  won  for  the  little  flock  its  victory  over  the  enormous 
power  of  the  heathen  world.  Atlienagoras  was  right 
when  he  declared  this  love  to  be  the  best  apology  for 
Christianity :  "  The  Christians  make  no  declamations,  but 
point  to  good  deeds ;  being  struck,  they  do  not  strike  in 
return ;  and  being  plundered,  they  do  not  accuse  before 
tribunals ;  they  give  to  those  that  ask,  and  love  their 
fellow-men  as  themselves." ^^  The  heathen  themselves 
could  not  resist  the  impression,  that  here  was  a  new  life 
such  as  they  had  not  known,  and  that  this  life  of  love 
was  somewhat  higher  than  what  they,  with  their  philo- 
sophy, their  political  life,  their  art  and  science,  were 
capable  of  attaining.  "  See,"  they  exclaimed,  "  how  these 
Christians  love  one  another!""  Here  too  was  the  say- 
ing fulfilled :  "  He  that  is  in  you,  is  greater  than  he  that 
is  in  the  world."  The  world  full  of  love,  which  had 
originated  in  Christianity,  could  not  but  at  last  gain  the 
victory  over  the  world  without  love ;  and  it  gained  it  in 
spite  of  the  human  weakness,  which  certainly  was  not 
lacking,  and  in  spite  of  the  obscurations,  which  now 
already  began  to  darken  the  shining  light  of  first  love. 


CHAPTEE    VI. 

OBSCUEATIONS. 

It  is  a  still  widely  disseminated  notion,  that  the  corrup- 
tion of  the  Church  did  not  begin  till  its  victory  under 
Constantine.  Before  that  epoch  nothing  is  seen  but  light 
and  brightness,  from  it  is  dated  its  secularization,  the 
relaxation  of  its  strong  faith  and  first  love,  the  obscura- 
tion of  genuine  Christianity  by  external  rites  and  self- 
righteousness  ;  and  the  act  of  Constantine  is  made 
responsible  for  all,  even  if  a  chief  argument  is  not  derived 
from  it,  against  all  close  connection  of  the  Church  with 
the  State.  In  fact,  however,  these  evils  only  come  out 
more  strongly  after  Constantine;  their  commencements 
existed  before,  and  the  Church,  -which  obtained  the  victory, 
was  already  in  many  respects  different  from  that  which 
began  the  contest.  The  turning-point  lies,  on  the  con- 
trary, especially  if  we  have  regard  to  Christian  life  and 
its  development,  in  the  Montanist  movement  and  in  its 
separation.  It  is  just  there  too,  that  we  perceive  those 
first  obscurations  of  charity,  which  it  is  so  important  to 
observe  and  fix,  if  we  are  to  attain  a  right  understanding 
of  the  next  epoch. 

Montanism  made  its  appearance  with  a  claim,  based 
upon  a  new  revelation  by  the  Paraclete,  the  Holy  Spirit, 
wliich,  compared  with  the  revelation  in  Christ,  was  said 
to  be  a  more  exalted  one,  of  raising  the  Christian  life  to  a 

203 


204  CHRISTIAN  CIIAIIITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  II. 

higher  level.  Under  the  law,  righteousness  was  in  its 
childhood,  under  the  gospel  it  was  glowing  with  youth, 
through  the  Paraclete  it  was  to  be  brought  to  maturity.^ 
In  truth,  however,  JMontanism  was  nothing  else  than  the 
reaction  against  that  making  itself  at  home  in  the  world, 
which  was  beginning  to  take  place  in  the  Church.  Herein 
Tertullian  quite  rightly  saw,  that  the  youth  of  the  Church 
was  departing.  Towards  the  end  of  the  second  century  a 
relaxation  of  the  first  enthusiasm  is  already  plainly  trace- 
able ;  men  were  no  longer  so  earnest,  so  strict  about  their 
Christianity  ;  much  already  passed  as  permissible,  which 
would  formerly  have  been  avoided  as  inconsistent  with 
Christianity ;  the  separation  from  the  surrounding  heathen 
world  was  no  longer  so  abrupt,  the  feeling  of  only  so- 
journing here  in  a  strange  land  was  giving  way,  arrange- 
ments were  made  with  a  view  to  a  longer  continuance  of 
the  Church  on  earth,  and  the  thoughts  of  the  Lord's 
speedy  return,  of  a  speedy  termination  to  the  present 
dispensation,  receded.  In  Montanism  the  old  stricter  but 
also  narrower  and  somewhat  conventicle-like  Christianity 
was  reacting.  So  far,  Montanism  was  not  without  justifi- 
cation, and  it  must  not  be  regarded,  as  its  adversaries 
chose  to  do,  as  an  antichristian  or  even  a  diabolical 
phenomenon.  Nevertheless  its  pretension  to  represent  a 
new  revelation  was  a  grievous  self-delusion,  and  the  way 
it  struck  out  for  healing  existing  evils,  and  raising  Chris- 
tian life  to  a  higher  level,  a  fundamentally  erroneous  one. 
Montanism  knows  of  no  other  means  than  increasing  the 
severity  of  discipline ;  the  place  of  the  "  new  law,"  as 
Christianity  was  then  universally  comprehended,  was  to 
be  taken  by  "a  newest  law,"  distinguished  from  the 
former  by  greater  strictness.  If  hitherto  the  principle : 
"  What  is  not  forbidden  is  allowed,"  had  been  current,  it 


CHAP.  VI.]  OBSCUEATIONS.  205 

was  now  to  be  said :  "  What  is  not  expressly  allowed  is 
forbidden."  The  notion  of  the  allowable,  the  category  of 
things  indifferent,  was  wholly  expunged.  The  newest 
law  of  the  Paraclete  regulated  everything,  down  to  the 
slightest  trifle,  as  e.g.  the  veil  of  virgins.  Asceticism  was 
increased,  fasting  made  more  rigid,  and  second  marriage 
forbidden.  The  Christian  must  entirely  break  with  the 
world,  for  the  world  is  approaching  its  destruction.  The 
expectation  of  the  speedy  return  of  Christ,  which  was 
abating  in  the  Church,  was  revived  in  glowiug  colours  by 
the  Moutanists.  These  heightened  moral  claims  were 
made  not  only  upon  individuals,  but  upon  all  Christians. 
Only  they  who  satisfy  them  are  genuinely  spiritual  men ; 
others  are  the  psychical,  the  sensuous,  in  fact  not  Christians 
at  all.  The  churches  must  become  churches  of  saints, 
and  the  means  to  make  them  such  consists  in  increashig 
the  strictness  of  discipline.  Every  mortal  sin  after  bap- 
tism absolutely  and  for  ever  excludes  from  the  Church. 
There  is  no  more  repentance  after  baptism.  By  this  it 
is  not  meant  to  declare  the  forgiveness  of  even  such  sins 
impossible,  but  that  they  are  left  to  God.  The  Church 
forgives  no  more. 

Such  a  tendency  was  incapable  of  becoming  the  vehicle 
of  the  Church's  further  development.  Had  Montanism 
been  victorious,  the  Church  could  not  have  become  a 
universal  power,  and  it  was  to  this  she  was  called.  She 
did  become  such,  but  not  without  forfeiting  by  this  step 
a  portion  of  her  original  endowment.  She  separated  from 
Montanism,  but  this  separation  did  not  ensue  without 
some  adulteration.  She  protested  against  the  stricter 
demands  made  by  Montanism  on  all  Christians,  but 
in  place  of  these,  began  to  make  still  higher  claims 
upon  individuals  in  the  Church.     She  rejected  the  con- 


206  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  ll. 

trast  set  up  by  Montanisra  between  spiritual  and  psychi- 
cal men,  but  in  its  place  gave  currency  to  a  contrast 
within  the  Church  between  perfect  and  imperfect  Chris- 
tians. It  was  just  this  distinction,  this  double  ethic,  that 
of  perfect  and  that  of  ordinary  Christians,  which  was  the 
chief  harm  the  Church  came  off  with  from  the  Montanist 
controversy. 

Let  us  endeavour  to  make  this  somewhat  clearer ;  for 
it  is  the  point  on  which  depends  the  further  development 
of  charity  in  the  Christian  Church.  If  the  Church  was 
to  become  a  universal  power,  if  it  was  to  exercise  a 
transforming  influence  upon  the  world  around,  its  position 
with  regard  to  the  world,  to  science,  to  art,  to  the  State, 
must  not  continue  to  be  of  a  purely  negative  character, 
A  congregation  of  saints,  sharply  separated  from  the  world 
around,  is  no  universal  power.  Tlie  Church  had  to  gain 
a  firm  footing  in  the  world,  to  enter  into  the  natural 
conditions  of  life.  A  Church,  such  as  the  Montanists 
conceived,  maintaining  the  supernaturalness  of  its  origin 
by  its  inflexible  reserve,  would  have  hovered  above  the 
world,  and  have  been  utterly  incapable  of  transforming 
it.  It  must  become  larger-hearted,  more  indulgent  to 
human  weakness,  "  a  safety  company  for  a  weak  genera- 
tion standing  in  need  of  milder  discipline."  ^  Thus  only 
could  it  become  a  Church  for  the  masses,  a  national 
Church  capable  of  pervading  national  life  with  a  new, 
a  Christian  spirit.  That  the  Church  should  after  its 
conquest  of  Montanism  turn  into  this  path,  was  a 
thoroughly  necessary  and  right  development.  Nor  is  it 
to  be  accounted  a  fault,  that  it  became  milder  in  disci- 
pline, and  made  reconciliation  possible  to  the  fallen,  that 
the  whole  idea  of  Christian  life  was  somewhat  lowered ; 
for  what  the  first  enthusiasm  had  effected  in  the  Church's 


CHAP.  VI.]  OBSCURATIONS.  207 

youth,  could  no  longer  be  required  in  the  subsequent 
centuries.  But  the  Church  was  now  in  presence  of  the 
great  task  of  penetrating  the  surrounding  national  life — • 
the  State,  art,  science,  social  relations — with  the  Christian 
spirit,  and  of  transforming  them  within  and  without. 
Against  this  task  the  vessel  struck,  and  was  thus  driven 
into  false  paths.  Incapable  of  christianizing  the  masses, 
herself  on  the  contrary  but  too  soon  caught  by  the 
ancient  heathen  spirit,  she  surrendered  one  point  after 
another  of  her  moral  requirements,  became  increasingly 
indulgent  and  lax  in  discipline,  and  was  more  and  more 
contented  with  a  Christianity,  which  consisted  merely  in 
a  participation  in  Church  ceremonies.  In  the  same 
proportion,  however,  in  which  she  thus  despaired  of  the 
moral  transformation  of  the  people  in  general,  did  she 
strain  the  more  tightly  her  claims  upon  those  who  desired 
to  be  perfect  Christians.  As  the  universal  priesthood  of 
all  Christians  was  replaced  by  the  hierarchical  priesthood 
of  the  few,  so  was  the  holiness  of  all  by  that  of  some 
few  saints ;  the  perfection  required  in  Scripture  from  all 
became  the  aim  of  a  select  band,  of  a  moral  aristocracy, 
standing  as  a  correlative  beside  the  clerical  aristocracy. 

The  germs  of  a  double  ethic,  of  a  distinction  between 
perfect  and  imperfect  Christians,  are  early  to  be  recog- 
nised.^ They  are^found  especially  in  the  high  estimation 
of  the  unmarried  state.  Hence  it  is  here  also,  that  the 
double  ethic,  the  distinction  between  commandments 
binding  on  all  Christians  and  counsels  left  to  free  decision, 
first  comes  forth  clearly  and  consciously  in  Origen  and 
Cyprian,  even  the  counsel  of  celibacy,  which  is  chiefly 
brought  forward.  The  firstlinsrs  of  the  Church  are 
according  to  Origen,  virgins,  and  its  tenths  those  who 
live  continently  after  marriage.     He  very  decidedly  dis- 


208  CHEISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  n. 

tinguislies  between  the  commandment  and  what  exceeds 
the  commandment.  He,  who  does  only  that  which  is 
commanded,  is,  according  to  Luke  xvii.  10,  an  unprofitable 
servant ;  but  he  who  adds  something  to  the  keeping  of 
the  commandments,  does  something  beyond  his  duty,  and 
receives  the  praise :  "  Well  done,  good  and  faithful 
servant."  And  this  work  surpassing  the  commandment 
is  celibacy,  which  in  1  Cor.  vii.  8  is  not  commanded,  but 
only  advised.*  So  too  in  Cyprian,  it  is  on  the  counsel 
of  celibacy  that  emphasis  is  chiefly  laid.  The  Lord  does 
not  command  celibacy,  but  He  admonishes  to  it ;  and 
they  who  follow  His  monition,  obtain  thereby  a  better 
mansion  in  the  world  where  there  are  many  mansions, 
and  then  are  of  a  higher  rank  than  ordinary  Christians.^ 

If  then  celibacy  was  regarded  as  a  point  of  perfection 
in  Christian  life  beyond  the  condition  of  the  Christian 
living  in  the  married  state,  it  was  but  a  short  step  further, 
to  view  in  a  similar  manner  the  renunciation  of  earthly 
property.  In  both  Origen  and  Cyprian  it  is  plainly 
seen,  how  the  development  is  tending  this  way.  How 
very  differently  from  Clement  of  Alexandria  does  Origen  ^ 
already  expound  the  history  of  the  rich  young  man !  It 
is  true  that  he  too  quite  acknowledges,  that  wealth  does 
not  prevent  salvation  ;  but,  he  adds,  that  it  makes  it  in 
many  respects  more  difticult,  and  is  then  inclined  so  to 
understand  the  passage,  that  he,  who  gives  his  goods  to 
the  poor,  is  for  this  supported  by  their  prayers,  and  thus 
the  more  easily  brought  to  perfect  virtue — to  perfection. 
The  renunciation  of  earthly  goods  is  thus  at  least  made 
a  way  to  perfection.  While  Clement  liolds  him  up  as 
the  victor,  the  true  hero,  wlio,  united  with  God,  conquers 
sorrow  and  pleasure  in  marriage,  in  the  bringing  up  of 
children,  in  care  for  his  household,'  Origen  already  says : 


CHAP.  VI.]  OBSCUEATIONS.  209 

**When  a  man  gives  himself  up  entirely  to  God,  when 
he  releases  himself  from  all  the  cares  of  the  present  life, 
when  he  keeps  himself  separate  from  other  men,  who 
live  after  the  flesh,  and  seeks  no  longer  what  is  of  earth, 
but  only  things  heavenly,  he  truly  deserves  to  be  called 
holy."  ^  It  is  as  though  we  already  saw  monasticism 
making  its  appearance.  In  a  similar  manner  do  we  find 
voluntary  poverty  combined  with  celibacy  in  Cyprian, 
His  exhortations  to  virginity  had  been  opposed  by :  "I 
am  rich,  and  must  use  what  God  has  given  me  to 
possess,"  To  which  Cyprian  replies :  "  Use  it  but  for 
salutary  things.  Let  the  poor  experience,  that  thou  art 
rich;  the  needy,  that  thou  hast  property.  Put  out  thine 
inheritance  to  usury  with  God."  ^  The  renunciation  of 
marriage  entails  that  of  property.  Cyprian  already 
regards  property  as  a  burden,  and  the  rich  are  in  liis  eyes 
unwise  for  seeking  to  increase  this  burden,  instead  of  to 
rid  themselves  of  it.^"  He  very  decidedly  demands  of 
those  who  have  fallen  away  in  persecution,  that  they 
should  give  up  their  wealth :  "  Let  him  who  has  been 
deceived  and  conquered  by  his  wealth,  neither  retain  nor 
love  it.  Property  is  to  be  fled  from  as  an  enemy,  to  be 
avoided  as  a  robber,  to  be  feared  as  a  sword."  ^^  The 
saying  of  our  Lord  to  the  rich  young  ruler :  "  Sell  all 
that  thou  hast ! "  is  now  without  any  hesitation  under- 
stood of  external  giving  away.  If  the  rich  had  done 
this,  they  would  not  have  perished  through  their  richep. 
Nay,  the  notion  already  makes  its  appearance  in  Cyprian, 
that  he  who  gives  away  his  earthly  goods,  can  mork 
freely  serve  the  Lord,  and  thus  follow  the  example  of 
the  apostles,^^  These  are  in  germ  the  views,  which 
.  subsequently  had  so  deep  and  decided  an  influence  upon 
charity.    To  give  away  property  is  in  itself  a  good  work ; 

o 


210  CHRISTIAN  CHAEITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  n. 

voluntary  poverty  is  a  more  elevated  moral  condition  than 
the  possession  of  wealth. 

Certainly  things  could  not  have  come  to  this  pitch, 
unless  the  New  Testament  doctrine  of  a  Christian's 
fulfilment  of  the  law  had  already  been  greatly  obscured. 
According  to  New  Testament  teaching,  the  fulfilment  of 
the  law  proceeds  from  faith ;  the  moral  conduct  of  man, 
his  obedience  to  God,  is  tlie  intrinsically  necessary  result 
of  his  entering  into  a  right  religious  relation  to  God 
through  faith  in  Christ,  Justified  by  grace  through 
faith,  man  is  a  new  creature,  and  he  now  walks  in 
obedience  to  the  Divine  commandments,  in  love,  which  is 
the  fulfilling  of  the  law.  This  connection  was,  however, 
soon  lost  to  the  Church.  Even  Clement  of  Eome,  one 
of  the  earliest  of  the  Apostolic  Fathers,  no  longer  grasps 
it.  He  strongly  insists  on  justification  through  faith, 
but  the  fulfilling  of  the  law  is  in  his  writings  no  longer 
rooted  therein,  but  made  to  stand  unconnectedly  beside  it. 
The  tie,  which  unites  faith  and  good  works,  justification 
and  the  fulfilling  of  the  law,  the  religious  relation  of  man 
to  God  and  his  moral  conduct,  is  dissolved.  The  conse- 
quence is,  that  the  two  sides  of  the  Christian  life  come 
into  a  false  relation  towards  each  other.  Faith  dwindles 
into  an  obedient  reception  of  the  rule  of  faith ;  the 
fulfilling  of  the  law,  as  something  not  yet  implied  by 
faith,  no  longer  having  its  roots  in  faith,  exists  indepen- 
dently beside  it.  Two  things  are  required  from  him  who 
desires  to  be  a  Christian  :  he  must  accept  the  rule  of  faith 
and  fulfil  the  law  of  Christ.  The  less  the  moral  value 
attributed  to  the  first  point,  viz.  faith,  i.e.  the  acceptance 
of  the  rule  of  faith,  the  more  strongly  must  the  second, 
the  fulfilling  of  the  law,  be  insisted  on,  Christ  is 
regarded  as  a  new  lawgiver,  and  Christianity  esteemed  a 


CHAP.  Vl]  OBSCOEATIONS.  211 

"  new  law  "  in  distinction  from  the  old  law.  The  further 
consequence  of  this,  however,  was,  that  Christian  life  was 
no  longer  comprised  as  a  whole  in  obedience  to  the 
Divine  commands,  but  shattered  into  a  multitude  of 
single  good  works,  and  that  thus  the  road  was  smoothed 
for  the  thought,  that  it  was  possible  for  a  man  to  do  more 
than  he  was  obliged  to  do.  For  as  long  as  Christian  life 
is  comprised  as  a  whole  in  faith  worlcing  by  love,  there 
is  no  room  at  all  for  such  a  notion.  In  other  respects 
too  this  legal  view  of  Christianity  could  not  fail  to  have 
a  disturbing  influence  upon  charity.  All  legality  is 
deficient  in  constancy.  The  appointing  will  remains  one 
alien  to  man,  it  is  not  assimilated  to  his  own  will. 
Hence  a  fulfilment  of  this  will  as  a  whole  is  not  attained 
to,  but  only  a  performance  of  single  works.  This  is  the 
reason  that  charity  too,  when  a  legal  view  of  it  was 
taken,  was  more  and  more  split  up  into  isolated  alms- 
givings. Already  in  Cyprian  it  is  no  longer,  as  in  Clement 
of  Alexandria,  upon  the  community  that  emphasis  is  laid, 
but  upon  the  most  abundant  possible  almsgiving,  and  in 
the  post-Constantinian  period  charity  is  entirely  comprised 
in  wholesale  almsgiving.  And  the  more  so,  that  now,  as 
a  further  consequence  of  legality,  almsgiving  came  to  be 
looked  on  as  meritorious  and  sin-atoning. 

That  there  is  in  almsgiving  an  inherent  satisfactory  and 
sin-atoning  power,  was  even  in  tlie  second  century  no 
unheard-of  matter.  Justification  by  faith  being  no  longer 
understood,  the  forgiveness  of  sins  was  soon  made  depen- 
dent on  the  fulfilment  of  the  Divine  commands.  "  Happy 
are  we,"  writes  already  Clement  of  Eome,  "  if  we  keep 
the  commandments  of  God  in  the  unanimity  of  love,  that 
our  sins  may  be  forgiven  through  love  ;"'^  and  when 
we  read  in  the   Epistle  of   Barnabas   the  admonition:^'* 


212  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  n. 

"  Labour  with  thy  hands  for  deliverance  from  thy  sins," 
it  is  meant,  that  he  who  does  his  neighbour  service  with 
his  hands,  thereby  obtains  the  forgiveness  of  his  sins. 
Hermas  represents  in  a  peculiar  manner  the  blessing 
brought  by  alms.  He  compares'®  the  rich  to  the  poles 
to  which  the  vines  are  fastened.  The  pole  itself  bears  no 
fruit,  but  so  helps  the  vine,  that  it  can  bring  forth  fruit, 
and  the  fruit  is  so  far  to  its  advantage,  that  it  indirectly 
bears  fruit.  The  rich  man  prays  little,  and  his  prayer  is 
powerless.  But  if  he  helps  the  poor,  they  pray  for  him, 
and  their  prayer  is  fruitful.  God  gives  to  the  rich  man 
all  good,  because  the  poor  pray  for  him.  But  these 
isolated  expressions  are  still  something  very  different  from 
the  systematic  insertion  of  almsgiving  in  the  scheme  of 
salvation.  This  is  first  met  with  in  Origen  and  Cyprian, 
and  with  it  the  foundation  of  what  was  subsequently  so 
significantly  developed,  and  handed  down  throughout  the 
whole  period  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

The  universally  accepted  proposition,  that  baptism 
procures  only  the  forgiveness  of  sins  committed  before 
baptism,  is  presupposed.  Since  then  a  Christian  sins  also 
after  baptism,  it  is  asked,  how  he  obtains  the  forgiveness 
of  post-baptismal  sins.  According  to  Origen,  a  sacrifice, 
to  be  brought  by  man  himself,  is  required  for  this. 
Martyrdom  is  esteemed  as  such  in  the  first  rank. 
Martyrdom  is  a  continuation  of  the  sacrifice  of  Christ, 
and  like  it, — though  certainly  only,  as  Origen  adds,  in 
virtue  of  it, — has  atoning  power,  whicli  may  then  be 
applied  to  others,  by  tlie  martyr  also,  in  the  way  of 
intercession.  But  even  this  means  of  forgiveness  is  not 
sufficient,  for  there  are  not  always  martyrs  in  the  Church. 
Origen  then  knows  of  other  ways,  in  which  sins  may  be 
forgiven,  and  among  these  alms  stand  first.     Next  to  this 


CHAP.  vlI  obscurations,  213 

the  forgiveness  of  offences  committed  against  us  by  others, 
the  fulness  of  love,  and  lastly,  public  Church  penance. 
While  the  latter  is  appointed  for  grievous  and  mortal 
sins,  alms  are  above  all  the  means  of  covering  daily  and 
slighter  transgressions.^® 

Still  greater  stress  is  laid  by  Cyprian  upon  the  sin- 
atoning  power  of  alms,  nay,  it  may  be  said,  that  he  was 
the  first  to  strike  out  the  path,  which  was  not  again  left 
till  the  era  of  the  Eeformation.  His  work  On  Good 
Works  and  Alms  is  here  in  all  respects  fundamental. 
He  too  starts  from  the  proposition,  that  baptism  takes 
away  only  the  sins  which  preceded  it.  Hence  baptism 
and  the  forgiveness  of  sins  in  baptism  would  have  availed 
us  nothing,  unless  God  "  had  opened  to  us  a  way  of  salva- 
tion through  works  of  mercy,  that  we  might  by  alms 
wash  off  the  defilements  of  sin,  which  we  subsequently 
contract."  ^^  We  plainly  perceive  in  Cyprian  also  the  way 
in  which  alms  are  intruded,  in  a  hitherto  unprecedented 
manner,  into  the  scheme  of  pardon.  Hitherto  penitent 
prayer  had  been  regarded  as  the  means  of  obtaining 
pardon.  Even  public  Church  penance  was  only  distin- 
guished from  penitence  for  daily  sins  by  the  circumstance, 
that  in  the  former  the  penitent  prayer  of  the  individual 
was  supported  by  the  prayer  of  the  Church.  Cyprian 
now  combines  prayer  and  alms.  Prayer  is  unfruitful 
unless  accompanied  by  alms.  It  is  alms  which  makes  it 
powerful  "For  He,  who  on  the  Day  of  Judgment  will  give 
their  reward  to  prayers  and  alms,  now  also  graciously 
hears  the  prayer  that  is  combined  with  alms."^^  In 
confirmation  of  this  proposition,  Cyprian  has  now  recourse 
to  the  Old  Testament,  and  especially  to  the  Apocrypha. 
Not  only  are  Ps.  xli.  and  Dan.  iv.  24  brought  in,  but 
Cyprian  is  also  the  first  to  make  use  of  the  Apocrypha, 


214         CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  IL 

and  to  introduce  into  the  Church  that  apocryphal  estima- 
tion of  alms,  which  goes  beyond  the  lines  of  the  Old 
Testament.  We  there  find,  Tob.  xii.  9,  and  above  all 
Wisd.  xxix.  12,  and  iii.  33:  "As  water  extinguishes 
fire,  so  do  alms  extinguish  sin."^®  Cyprian  introduced  into 
the  judgment  of  the  Church,  that  judgment  concerning 
alms  which  was  peculiar  to  post-Babylonian  Judaism,  and 
it  is  accordingly  characteristic  to  find  him  making  such 
copious  use  of  the  Apocrypha.  New  Testament  passages 
are  then  also  applied  in  a  corresponding  sense,  especially 
Luke  xi.  41.  Our  Lord  here  teaches,  according  to 
Cyprian,  that  we  are  to  cleanse  not  the  outside,  but  the 
inside,  and  adds,  that  this  is  to  be  done  by  alms.^ 
Tabitha  serves  as  an  example,  that  alms  deliver  from 
death,  even  the  death  of  the  body.  Thus  alms  appear 
beside  baptism  as  sin-atoning.  "  As  through  the  bath  of 
the  healing  water  the  fire  of  hell  is  extinguished,  so 
through  alms  and  good  works  is  the  flame  of  sin  put  out."^^ 

Henceforward  the  notion  that  alms  are  sin-atoning 
never  recedes.  "We  meet  with  it  in  the  oldest  sermon  we 
know  of,  the  so-called  Second  Epistle  of  Clement,^  wherein 
alms  are  called  repentance  for  sin ;  in  the  Apostolical 
Constitutions,  where  we  find  the  exhortation :  "  If  thou 
gainest  anything  by  the  labour  of  thy  hands,  give,  that 
thou  mayest  work  for  the  expiation  of  thy  sins  ;"^^  and  in. 
Lactantius,  where  it  is  said  :  "  Great  is  the  reward  of 
mercy,  which  God  promises,  that  He  will  forgive  all  sin." 
Lactantius,  however,  lays  far  less  stress  upon  the  sin- 
atoning  power  of  alms  than  Cyprian  does.  On  the 
contrary,  he  places  in  the  foreground  the  notion  of 
humanity,  which  brings  forth  all  the  works  of  love,  and  is 
a  part  of  the  righteousness  required  of  the  Christian. 

On  the  whole,  the  notions  developed  by  Cyprian  take 


CHAP.  VI.]  OBSCURATIONS.  215 

less  effect  during  the  prse-Constantinian  era.  There  was 
still  too  much  real  love  to  need  the  impulse  involved  in 
this  combination  of  alms  with  pardon.  The  era  of  dis- 
tress and  of  conflict  offered  Christians  so  much  opportunity 
of  showing  their  readiness  for  sacrifice,  that  there  was 
no  necessity  for  special  self-imposed  sacrifices.  "  So 
long  as  " — again  to  use  expressions  of  Cyprian — "  the 
purple  crown"  of  martyrdom  beckoned,  "the  dazzling 
white  crown"  to  be  obtained  by  the  voluntary  surrender 
of  property  in  the  form  of  alms,  could  exercise  no  great 
attraction.  But  when  the  victory  was  won,  when  the 
Church  became  dominant,  when  love  decayed  in  the 
multitude  of  nominal  Christians,  while  distress  increased, 
and  a  wholesale  poverty,  unknown  in  former  times,  set  in, 
these  notions  began  to  influence  and  to  obscure  charity  in 
ever-increasing  proportion.  Motives  were  altered.  In 
the  place  of  simple  love,  was  found  a  regard  to  the 
blessing  which  alms  bestow ;  respect  was  had  not  to  the 
poor,  but  to  self  and  what  was  to  be  gained  thereby. 
This  could  not  but  gradually  have  a  pernicious  effect 
upon  charity.  The  care  of  the  poor  on  tlie  part  of  the 
Church  was  stunted  ;  in  its  place  was  found,  on  the  one 
side,  wholesale  almsgiving,  on  the  other  benevolent 
institutions,  the  hospital  and  the  monastery.  Other 
causes  certainly  contributed  to  bring  about  this  change, 
but  ill  truth  its  main  cause  is  to  be  found  in  that  view 
of  the  atoning  power  of  almsgiving,  which  was  first  clearly 
expressed  by  Cyprian.  The  post  -  Constantinian  Age 
furnished  much  that  was  still  great,  in  some  respects 
greater,  and  at  all  events  more  dazzling  in  the  sphere  of 
charity,  but  it  was  no  longer  that  simple,  purer,  and 
therefore  so  greatly  blessed  exercise  of  love,  which 
prevailed  in  the  earlier  centuries. 


BOOK  THIED. 


AFTER  THE  VICTORY. 


CHAPTEE   I. 

A    PERISHING    WORLD. 

The  history  of  Christian  charity  can  only  be  understood 
in  connection  with  the  entire  development  of  ecclesi- 
astical, nay  of  secular  history.  For  only  thus  sliall 
we  be  in  a  position  to  comprehend  the  special  tasks 
imposed  upon  it  in  each  period,  and  how  in  fulfilling 
them  it  co-operated,  as  no  small  and  unimportant  factor, 
in  the  fulfilment  of  those  imposed  upon  the  world,  and 
duly  to  appreciate  those  changes  in  its  character,  which 
corresponded  with  the  changes  of  the  times.  Let  us 
then  first  bring  before  ourselves  that  last  period  of  the 
Eoman  Empire,  which  commences  with  Constantino.^ 

The  rule  of  Constantino  and  his  acts,  directed  as  they 
were  towards  a  restoration  of  the  Empire,  were  even  then 
very  differently  judged  of,  according  to  differing  views 
of  their  results.  While  the  heathen  saw  in  him  the 
destroyer  of  the  Empire,  and  in  all  the  troubles  which 
from  this  time  onwards  increasingly  overwhelmed  the 
State,  only  the  result  of  his  supplanting  the  native  religion 
by  Christianity,  he  appeared  to  the  Christians  as  crowned 
with  the  halo  of  a  restorer  of  the  Empire,  and  his  acts 
were  esteemed  by  them  as  in  a  special  sense  saving  acts. 
In  truth  both  were  right,  for  as  a  powerful  remedy 
infused  into  a  sick  body,  calls  forth  a  salutary  reaction, 
which  for  the  moment  checks  the  progress  of  disease,  but 

219 


220         CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  ni. 

on  the  other  hand,  because  the  body  lacks  the  vitality 
required  for  lasting  health,  produces  pernicious  effects 
and  makes  death  only  the  more  certain ;  so  did  the  acts 
of  Constantine  bring  about  this  double  result.  On  the 
one  hand  their  influence  was  preservative,  the  Empire 
owed  to  them  its  last  appointed  respite ;  on  the  other 
they  could  not  but  bring  on  with  greater  certainty  the 
dissolution  of  the  decaying  body.  After  Constantine,  the 
Eoman  Empire,  notwithstanding  the  saving  acts  of  the 
Emperor,  nay  in  a  certain  sense  by  their  means,  was  a 
perishing  world. 

There  are  three  points,  which  chiefly  indicate  that  final 
period  of  the  Eoman  Empire,  which,  already  preparing 
under  Diocletian,  fully  set  in  with  Constantine. 

First,  the  totally  altered  character  of  the  Empire  itself. 
The  forms  of  the  republic,  hitherto  firmly  though  only 
apparently  kept  up,  were  now  entirely  obliterated.  The 
Imperator  became  the  Donainus,  the  absolute  ruler. 
Oriental  pomp,  a  numerous  retinue  of  court  officials,  a 
ceremonial  most  minutely  carried  out,  were  calculated  to 
separate  him  from  the  people,  and  to  give  a  character  of 
sacredness  to  his  person.  He  was  seldom  seen  by  the 
people,  and  then  only  in  the  greatest  pomp,  in  the  purple 
and  diadem  of  pearls,  and  surrounded  by  the  bodyguard 
with  their  golden  shields.  It  was  only  from  a  distance 
that  the  multitude  could  cast  a  furtive  glance  on  all  this 
glory.  Access  to  him  was  difficult,  a  host  of  officials, 
by  whom  everything  was  brought  before  him,  and  his 
commands  obtained  in  reply,  stood  between  him  and  the 
people,  while  he  himself,  like  an  all-directing  deity,  sat 
enthroned  out  of  sight  in  the  "  sacred  apartments  "  of  his 
palace. 

Undoubtedly  this  nicely  calculated  and  new  system  of 


CHAP,  l]  a  perishing  WOULD.  221 

government  exercised  a  salutary  influence.  The  throne 
was  more  secure ;  the  assassinations  of  emperors,  which 
had,  in  the  second  half  of  the  third  century,  brought  the 
Empire  to  the  brink  of  ruin,  were  less  frequent.  There 
grew  up  again  a  kind  of  legitimacy,  which,  though  not 
one  according  to  our  conceptions,  with  a  settled  hereditary 
succession,  was  yet  of  a  nature  to  bind  men  to  fidelity  to 
the  once  acknowledged  emperor,  and  to  make  it  esteemed 
a  crime  to  rise  against  him.  This  system  of  government 
had,  however,  its  suspicious  reverse  side.  The  govern- 
ment proper  was  in  the  hands  of  the  bureaucracy.  The 
people  sick  unto  death  were  no  longer  in  a  condition  to 
rule  themselves,  all  self-government  having  long  ceased. 
Whatever  was  done,  was  done  from  above.  But  the 
Emperor  too  was  on  his  part  governed,  while  he  thought 
he  was  governing.  He  saw  only  wliat  he  was  to  see, 
and  heard  only  what  he  was  to  hear.  How  things  were 
really  going  on  in  the  Empire,  he  never  learned,  but  only 
that  of  which  his  all-notifying,  all-enregistering  officials 
thought  fit  to  inform  him.  Never  was  a  ruler  more 
exceptionally  deceived — as  Diocletian  already  comi)lained 
— than  the  Eoraan  Emperor;  never  were  the  laws  more 
badly  obeyed,  than  in  the  absolutely  governed  Iloman 
State.  Amidst  cringing  devotion  and  apparent  subjection 
to  every  imperial  command,  each  law,  each  injunction, 
was  nevertheless  evaded.  Of  these  thoroughly  deceitful 
and  intriguing  officials,  but  few  had  the  good  of  the  people 
in  view ;  the  majority  were  only  bent  upon  their  own 
advantage,  accessible  to  every  kind  of  corruption,  striving 
only  to  raise  themselves  to  large  incomes,  to  brilliant 
positions,  to  the  utmost  possible  nearness  to  the  imperial 
sun,  the  dispenser  of  all  benefits.  The  demoralizing 
influences,  which  despotism  exercises,  are  most  fearfully 


222         CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  ITI. 

apparent  in  the  corruption  of  the  official  world.  The 
tribunals  were  no  better.  They  were,  as  Marcus 
Ammianus^  says,  not  temples  of  justice,  but  pits  and 
snares,  which  those  who  did  not  know  how  to  help 
themselves  did  not,  however  innocent,  get  out  of  for 
years,  nor  till  they  were  sucked  to  the  very  marrow, 
while  the  guilty,  if  they  only  knew  the  trick,  got  off 
with  impunity.  Everything  was  to  be  obtained  by 
bribery.  To  the  rich  and  powerful  it  was  easy  to  make 
their  injustice  triumphant ;  to  the  poor  it  was  difficult,  if 
not  impossible,  to  obtain  justice. 

Next,  it  was  Constantine,  who,  conscious  of  the  necessity 
of  infusing  young  and  vigorous  blood  into  the  sinking 
Eoman  power,  was  the  first  Emperor  to  attract  the 
Germans,  to  favour  their  reception  into  the  Empire,  the 
army,  the  personal  service  of  the  Emperor,  and  thus  to 
bring  about  a  development  of  the  greatest  importance  to 
after  ages.  Erom  this  time  onwards  Germans  were 
mingled  in  ever-increasing  proportion  among  the  Eomish 
population.  They  came  as  prisoners  of  war  and  slaves, 
as  mercenaries  willingly  entering  the  Eomish  service,  as 
individual  adventurers  seeking  to  make  their  fortunes  in 
the  Empire,  as  hordes  settling  within  its  boundaries,  and 
they  were  soon  able  to  say,  as  Tertullian  makes  the 
Christians  do :  "  We  are  of  yesterday,  and  we  do  every- 
thing." Germans  cultivated  the  land  as  colonists,  served 
in  the  houses  as  slaves,  in  the  bureaus  as  officials,  in  the 
imperial  palace  as  courtiers,  filled  the  squares  of  tlie 
legions,  commanded  the  army  as  officers  and  generals, 
governed  the  State  as  ministers. 

Certainly  new  power  was  thus  infused  into  the  decaying 
State,  and  to  this  it  was  indebted,  in  part  at  least,  for  its 
temporary  preservation.      They  were  for  the  most  part 


CHAP.  I.]  A  PEKISHING  WORLD.  223 

Germans,  who,  now  fighting  under  the  Eoman  standards, 
with  difficulty  defended  the  boundaries  of  the  Empire 
against  their  fellow-tribesmen.  Still  more  important  was 
this  mingling  of  Germans  and  Eomans  with  respect  to 
the  future.  The  Germans,  who  were  thus  received  into 
the  Empire,  were  brought  into  contact  with  Roman 
civilization,  acquired  a  sense  for  it,  were  educated  to 
become  one  day  its  inheritors,  and  yet  remained  in  suffi- 
cient proximity  to  their  kinsmen  to  civilize  them  in 
return.  Rome,  when  receiving  the  Germans,  was  uncon- 
sciously subserving  higher  ends,^  for  we  really  have 
already  before  us  the  beginning  of  the  conquest  of  the 
Empire  by  the  Germans,  the  beginning  of  the  formation 
of  a  new  Eomano-Germanic  world ;  and  the  same  act, 
which  under  former  emperors  had  preservative  influence, 
could  not  fail  to  fall  out  subsequently  to  the  destruction 
of  the  Empire.  When  Valens  permitted  the  Goths  to 
cross  the  Danube,  he  did  nothing  else  than  what  many 
emperors  before  him  had  done  with  advantage  to  the 
realm,  and  yet  he  then  signed,  without  knowing  it,  the 
death-warrant  of  Rome. 

But  the  act  which  is  specially  distinctive  of  Constan- 
tine  is,  that  he  gave  in  Christianity  a  new  religious 
foundation  to  the  Empire.  At  first  merely  acknowledged, 
Christianity  as  the  religion  of  the  ruler  soon  became  the 
dominant,  and  then  the  only  dominant  religion.  The 
Empire  became  externally  at  least  a  Christian  State. 
Whatever  we  may  think  in  other  respects  of  the  first 
Christian  emperors,  we  must  at  any  rate  acknowledge, 
that  this  act  of  Constantine  was  supereminently  an  act 
preservative  of  the  State.  Without  the  new  religious 
fermentation,  a  restoration  of  the  Empire  in  general  would 
have  been  impossible.     At  the  same  time,  it  is  certain, 


224        CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  in. 

that  the  Christian  religion  could  only  have  permanently 
strengthened,  actually  renovated,  and  longer  preserved  the 
Empire,  if  it  had  succeeded  in  really  penetrating  the 
national  life  with  the  leaven  of  the  gospel.  To  this, 
however,  it  did  not  even  approximate,  and  hence  in  other 
aspects  Christianity  could  not  but  have  a  destructive  and 
explosive  influence.  There  is  truth  in  the  saying :  "  The 
old  world  died  of  Christianity." 

In  endeavouring  to  explain  a  proposition  at  first  sight 
so  strange,  we  must  start  from  the  statement,  that  to  be  a 
genuine  Koman  and  at  the  same  time  a  Christian,  was  an 
irreconcilable  contradiction.  He  who  became  a  Christian 
broke,  even  if  he  did  not  know  it,  with  the  entire  past; 
he  disowned  the  whole  existing  condition  of  political, 
civil,  social,  scientific,  and  artistic  life.  For  tliis  life 
was  everywhere  penetrated  by  heathenism  ;  at  whatever 
point  its  roots  were  followed,  heathen  ideas  were  always 
at  last  struck  against.  Hence  Christianity  could  not  fail 
to  implant  in  all  the  relations  of  life  germs  of  rupture, 
the  effect  of  which  was  a  gradual  loosening  and  splitting 
Tip,  just  as  water  gradually  rends  asunder  even  the  hardest 
rocks.  Of  this  Christians  themselves  had,  I  repeat,  no 
consciousness,  at  least  no  clear  consciousness.  They 
esteemed  themselves  good  citizens.  How  often,  in  their 
apologies,  do  they  appeal,  in  reply  to  the  reproach  of 
being  enemies  to  the  State,  to  their  faithful  fulfilment  of 
their  civil  duties,  their  punctual  payment  of  taxes,  tlieir 
respect  for  the  Emperor,  their  obedience  to  authorities. 
All  this  was  quite  true ;  yet  Christians  had  a  secret 
feeling,  that  the  heathen  State  was  one  properly  alien  to 
them,  and  if  this  feeling  did  not  degenerate  into  hostility, 
because  they  knew  themselves  to  be  bound  by  the 
apostle's  words :  "  The  powers  that  be  are   ordained  of 


CHAP.  I.]  A  PERISHING  WORLD.  225 

God,"  still  their  real  disposition  towards  the  State  was 
that  of  indifference.  In  earnest  Christian  circles  all 
positive  participation  in  political  life,  the  filling  of  a 
magistracy,  military  service,  had  long  been  esteemed 
sinful.  The  kingdom  of  God  was  more  to  Christians 
than  the  Eoman  Empire,  the  Church  more  than  the  State. 
It  was  there  that  they  found  their  life's  centre,  and  so 
long  as  the  State  was  hostile  to  Christianity  (and  we 
must  not  forget  that  this  was  for  centuries),  it  could  not 
be  otherwise.  The  Church  became  a  state  within  the 
State.  The  Christian  found  his  point  of  support  in  the 
Church,  to  it  belonged  first  of  all  his  affections  and  his 
service ;  he  there  sought  not  only  the  word  of  life  and 
what  conduced  to  his  salvation,  but  he  there  sought  also, 
in  the  episcopal  tribunal,  his  rights,  and  aid  when  he  was 
in  trouble. 

It  might  have  been  expected,  that  all  this  would  have 
been  changed,  when  the  position  of  the  State  towards 
the  Church  became  a  friendly  one,  when  the  supreme 
bead  of  the  State  himself,  and  soon  afterwards  the  whole 
nation,  belonged  to  the  Church.  But  by  that  time  the 
Church  was  already  a  state  within  the  State,  and  such  it 
continued.  For  Constantino  and  his  sons,  perceiving  the 
power  of  the  Church,  and  hoping  to  make  this  friendly 
to  themselves,  aimed  rather  at  still  farther  increas- 
ing its  power  and  influence.  The  jurisdiction  of  tlie 
bishops  was  recognised  and  even  extended;  the  Church 
was  overwhelmed  with  favours,  privileges,  exemptions 
from  taxation,  wealth.  Thus  the  Church  increased  while 
the  State  decreased,  nay,  it  may  be  said  that  the  Church 
exhausted  the  State.  A  glance  at  the  period  shows,  that 
real  vitality  was  on  the  side  of  the  Church ;  the  State 
ageing,  the  Church  in  youthful  vigour  ;  on  the  side  of  the 

P 


226         CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  m. 

State  increasing  feebleness,  on  that  of  the  Church  an 
access  of  power  and  influence ;  in  the  one  a  slavishly-  • 
minded  people  ground  down  by  despotism,  in  the  other  a 
feeling  for  liberty.  At  least  it  was  the  office-bearers  of 
the  Church  who  alone  ventured  to  plead  the  cause  of  the 
people  before  their  capricious  despots.  In  the  former, 
moral  corruption ;  in  the  latter,  at  all  events  in  the  more 
conspicuous  figures,  in  the  rulers  of  the  Church  and  in 
thousands  of  its  members,  moral  earnestness,  which,  even 
if  it  struck  out  false  paths  and  sought  salvation  by 
ascetic  self-denial,  was  still  imposing.  The  State  grew 
poor,  the  Church  became  rich ;  the  State  lost  its  influence 
on  popular  life,  the  Church  acquired  what  the  State  lost; 
the  State  broke  up  into  fragments,  the  Church  was  com- 
pressed into  an  ever  more  and  more  compact  unity. 
"While  two  or  three  emperors  were  dividing  among  them 
the  imperial  power  in  Constantinople,  Milan  and  Treves, 
Eome,  forsaken  by  its  emperors,  was  becoming  the  eccle- 
siastical point  of  unity  and  preparing  itself,  for  a  second 
time  and  in  another  manner,  to  rule  the  world.  What 
intellectual  powers  the  State  forfeited,  because  all  intel- 
lectually important  characters  were  attracted  to  the 
Church !  How  many  thousand  citizens  were  lost  at  a 
time  when  every  hand  that  could  guide  the  plough,  every 
arm  that  could  wield  the  svrord  was  not  to  be  replaced — 
lost  by  the  departure  of  Christians  by  troops  into  the 
wilderness,  that  they  might  there  in  solitude  follow  after 
the  ideal  of  a  supposed  Christian  perfection !  What 
material  losses  did  the  State  incur  by  privileges  and 
exemptions  from  taxation  granted  to  the  Church,  and  by 
.the  accumulation  of  such  great  treasures,  such  enormous 
landed  property  by  the  latter !  A  feature  of  the  period 
was  a  kind  of  flight  from  the  State,  and  this  flight  set 


CHAP.  I.]  A.  PEKISHING  WORLD.  227 

towards  the  Church.  Hither  did  all  who  longed  to 
escape  from  the  oppressions  of  the  State  betake  themselves. 
The  Church  indeed  requited  the  State  for  this,  by  exer- 
cising a  moralizing  influence  upon  the  people,  but  not 
in  such  proportions  as  to  supply  an  actual  compensa- 
tion. For  just  here  was  the  failure, — the  leaven  of  the 
gospel  did  not  penetrate,  an  actual  christianization  of  the 
Eoman  Empire  was  never  attained,  and  hence,  in  the  end, 
Christianity  was  more  a  destructive  than  a  conservative 
agency. 

It  will  now  be  clear,  that  the  acts  of  Constantine  could 
not,  and  why  they  could  not,  preserve  the  Empire  ;  also 
in  what  sense  they  themselves  contributed  to  its  dissolu- 
tion. It  is  a  perishing  world  that  we  are  contemplating. 
Everything  was  falling  to  ruins.  There  is  something  hoary 
in  the  character  of  the  age.  Population  was  decreasing 
both  in  numbers  and  strength.  Industry,  trade,  art, 
science,  all  were  in  a  state  of  declension.  Financial 
embarrassments  were  increasing,  the  burdens  laid  upon  the 
people  were  becoming  more  and  more  intolerable.  And 
worst  of  all,  morality  was  sinking  lower  and  lower. 
Debauchery,  even  unnatural  crimes  were  again  in  vogue. 
A  semi-barbarous  luxury  swallowed  up  whatever  property 
still  existed.  It  was  as  though  the  desire  was  to  consume 
time.  Falsehood  and  deceit  became  fundamental  features 
of  the  Eoman  character.  How  many  a  German  petty 
king  perished  through  over-confidence  in  Eoman  artifice ! 
how  many  an  incursion  of  barbarians  was  owing  to  Eoman 
breach  of  faith  !  It  was  truly  felt  that  morality  was 
sinking ;  Draconic  laws  were  enacted,  justice  became,  as 
is  always  the  case  in  such  times,  harsh  and  cruel.  It 
was  of  no  avail,  the  laws  were  not  kept,  and  the  judges 
were  just  as  corrupt  as  the  rest  of  the  people.     And  this 


228         CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  m. 

internally  decaying  Empire  was  encompassed  by  hordes  of 
Germans,  lusting  for  tlie  glories  of  Rome  and  Greece,  and 
only  waiting  for  the  moment  when  they  must  fall  a  prey 
to  them.  It  was  now  only  a  question  of  time,  when  the 
hour  of  ruin  was  to  strike  for  the  Empire. 

Strange  to  say  that  neither  the  teachers  of  the  Church, 
nor  the  far-seeing  men  of  the  age,  were  conscious  of  living 
and  working  in  a  perishing  world.  If  we  read,  e.g.,  the 
oration  pronounced  in  Milan  by  Ambrose  on  the  deceased 
Emperor  Theodosius,*  we  cannot  doubt  that  he  really 
believed  in  a  regeneration  of  the  Eoman  Empire  by  the 
act  of  Constantine,  and  notliing  is  further  from  his 
thoughts  than  its  speedy  fall.  He  places  Theodosius 
with  Constantine  ;  what  Constantine  began,  Theodosius 
has  completed.  The  Empire  has  again  one  faith.  He 
recalls  the  circumstance,  that  his  mother  Helena  presented 
the  first  Christian  Emperor  witli  two  nails  out  of  the 
rediscovered  sacred  cross.  Constantine  placed  one  in  the 
imperial  crown,  the  other  in  the  bridle  of  his  horse.  "  Oh 
wise  Helena,"  exclaims  Ambrose,  "  who  assigned  to  the 
cross  its  place  upon  the  head  of  the  Emperor,  that  in  the 
Emperor  the  crown  might  be  honoured !  Oh  good  nail, 
which  holds  the  Roman  Empire  together!"  Ambrose  really 
believed,  that  the  crown  had  received  fresh  splendour 
from  the  cross,  that  the  Christian  faith  w^as  the  nail  that 
kept  the  Empire  together.  How  near  this  Empire  was,  in 
spite  of  the  sacred  nail,  to  its  destruction,  Ambrose  did 
not  perceive.  And  yet  the  conquest  of  the  Empire  by 
the  Germans  had  already  begun.  The  golden  shielded 
guards,  who  were  keeping  watch  by  the  corpse  of  the 
Emperor,  the  generals  who  were  commanding  the  army,  the 
ministers  who  were  standing  by  the  side  of  the  sons,  as 
yet  minors,  of  the  great  Emperor,  of  whom  the  realm  had 


CHAP.  I-]  A  PERISHING  WORLD.  229 

been  too  soon  deprived,  were  Germans.  The  Goths  were 
already  in  Thrace,  and  if  the  eyes  of  Ambrose  had  been 
miraculously  opened  to  behold  the  future,  he  would 
already  have  seen  before  him  the  man  who,  for  the  first 
time  since  the  Gauls,  was  to  enter  as  a  victor  into  the 
hitherto  nnconquered  Rome — the  mighty  Goth,  Alaric. 

It  was  with  others  as  with  Ambrose.  They  could  not 
avoid  the  conviction,  that  since  the  Empire  liad  become 
Christian,  distress  and  misery  had  increased  on  all  sides, 
that  the  christianization  of  Eome  by  no  means  resulted  in 
its  revived  glory.  They  often  meditated  on  the  question, 
how  this  could  be ;  the  reproach  of  the  heathen,  that 
this  distress  was  a  punishment  for  forsaking  the  native 
gods,  constrained  them  to  inquire  into  it,  but  tliey  never 
had  a  notion,  that  the  Empire  could  perish,  or  the  Bar- 
barians take  the  place  of  the  Eomans.  And  well  that  it 
was  so.  For  the  consciousness  of  working  in  a  perishing 
world  would  have  paralyzed  their  courage  for  ■work,  and 
this  was  necessary  not  indeed  for  the  preservation  of  the 
Empire,  but  for  the  realization  of  the  then  hidden  pur- 
poses of  God.  It  was  natural  also  that  it  was  so.  Faith 
in  Eternal  Eome  was  too  deeply  rooted ;  tlie  Eomans 
were  too  conscious  of  their  superiority  to  the  Germans  in 
civilization,  to  have  been  ever  able  to  conceive,  that  these 
Barbarians  should  supplant  them.  The  thought  indeed 
was  not  absent,  that  the  present  distress  was  a  chastise- 
ment of  God,  a  well  -  deserved  chastisement  of  the 
degenerate  race.  Salvian  preached  tlius  in  touching 
terms  to  his  contemporaries,  and  represented  to  them, 
that  the  Germans  were  victorious  because  they  were 
chaste,  self-restrained  and  truthful,  while  the  Eomans 
were  debauched  and  deceitfuh  The  fundamental  notion 
of  his  work  On  God's  Government  of  the  World,  is:  The 


230         CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  m. 

government  of  the  world  is  the  judgment  of  God. 
Therefore  Africa,  a  country  full  of  debauchery,  iell  into 
the  hands  of  the  chaste  Vandals.  At  the  same  time, 
however,  it  was  always  maintained,  that  the  chastisement 
was  a  temporary  one,  and  every  glimmer  of  improvement, 
a  momentary  mitigation  of  misery,  an  isolated  victory 
over  the  Barbarians,  nay,  even  a  gracious  letter  from  the 
Emperor  to  the  Senate,  awakened  the  boldest  hope,  that 
troubles  were  now  over,  and  that  a  new  era  of  prosperity 
was  about  to  dawn  upon  the  Empire.  No  Eoman,  and 
even  no  Christian  Eoman  ever  entertained  tlie  notion 
that  the  Barbarians  could  ever  j)ut  an  end  to  the  Boman 
Empire  and  Eoman  civilization.  Hence  no  results  were 
obtained  by  their  treatises  on  Divine  Providence,  its 
plans  and  purposes.  Never  was  tlie  question  of  Divine 
Providence  so  much  discussed  as  then.  Augustine's  great 
work  On  the  City  of  God  starts  from  it ;  Orosius,  in  his 
work,  On  the  Calamities  of  the  ivhole  World;  Salvian, 
in  his  before-mentioned  work,  On  the  Divine  Government, 
discuss  it.  Every  fresh  trouble  again  revived  this  ques- 
tion. How  energetically  was  it  debated  after  the 
defeat  at  Adrianople,  when  Valens  fell  and  the  Goths 
destroyed  the  Eoman  army — a  defeat  wliich  everywhere 
made  as  great  an  impression  as  formerly  that  of  Canna3 ! 
To  the  assertion  of  the  heathen,  that  Christianity  was  the 
cause  of  all  this  misfortune,  that  under  its  ancient  gods 
Eome  had  flourished,  while  under  the  God  of  the  Chris- 
tians there  was  nothing  but  misery,  the  Christians  had 
nothing  to  oppose  but  the  retort,  that  neither  had  there 
been  any  lack  of  misfortune  under  the  gods  of  Olympus. 
Calculations  and  counter-calculations  were  made,  but  in 
such  wise,  that  one  party  took  no  notice  of  the  calcula- 
tions of   the  other.     The   entire    mode  of  viewing  the 


CHAP.  I.]  A  PERISHING  WORLD.  231 

matter  was  somewhat  meclianical ;  the  punisliments  and 
rewards  of  heaven  were  regarded  in  a  very  external 
manner.  Neither  heathen  nor  Christians  were  able  to 
perceive  the  deeper  meaning  which  events  had  according 
to  God's  hidden  counsels.  The  key  was  yet  lacking  for 
the  comprehension  of  the  age. 

"We  have  this  key,  for  we  can  see  whither  the  deal- 
ings of  God  were  tending,  and  just  this  age  in  which  the 
saying,  "  His  footsteps  are  in  the  deep  waters,"  was  so 
conspicuously  fulfilled,  and  which  was  therefore  so  incom- 
prehensible to  the  generation  then  living,  is  to  us  clear 
and  transparent.  If  any  one  were  to  ask  ine  what 
period  of  history  he  should  study,  to  gain  a  direct  im- 
pression of  the  rule  of  Divine  Providence,  I  should  say 
the  era  of  the  migration  of  the  nations. 

It  was  not  the  civilised  nations  of  the  Grffico-Eoman 
world,  but  the  Germans,  who  were  to  be  the  vehicles  of 
Christianity.  The  old  world  was  too  much  penetrated  by 
heathen  traditions  for  Christianity  to  take  deep  root  in  it. 
But  if  the  Germans  were  to  become  the  inheritors  of 
ancient  civilization,  and  to  carry  on  the  work  of  the 
Greeks  and  Komans,  a  preparation  was  needed,  and  this 
preparation  was  furnished  by  the  period  after  Constantiue, 
as  also,  though  without  their  understanding  it,  by 
Ambrose,  Augustine,  Gregory,  and  other  great  men,  in 
whom  this  period  was  richer  than  almost  any  other. 
Augustine,  in  his  City  of  God,  has,  so  to  speak,  uncon- 
sciously written  out  the  programme  of  the  Middle  Ages ; 
for  the  Middle  Ages  are  properly  nothing  else  than  tlie 
effort  to  realize  the  ideas  laid  down  in  this  work.**  Let 
us  just  suppose,  that  the  Eoman  Empire  had  at  an  earlier 
period — say  when  Marcus  Aurelius  with  difficulty  kept 
the  intruding  Marcomanni  to  the  Danube — fallen  into 


232         CHitlSTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHUKCH.       [book  III. 

the  hands  of  the  Germans.  Tliey  would  have  extirpated 
every  trace  of  the  civilization  of  the  ancient  world,  and 
Christianity  with  it.  Hence  the  delay,  the  last  respite, 
which  was  granted  to  the  Empire  by  the  act  of  Con- 
stantine.  The  Germans  were  to  be  first  so  far  matured 
as  to  be  capable  of  fulfilling  their  high  vocation.  Not  as 
Pagans  but  as  Christians  were  they  to  conquer  the  Empire. 
How  very  differently  from  Alaric  the  Goth,  would  a  Mar- 
comannian  chief  have  treated  Eome  !  And  the  main  point, 
the  Church  itself,  was  to  be  so  far  strengthened  as  to  be  able 
to  furnish  a  shelter  for  the  treasures  of  old-world  culture. 
Whatever  was  saved  was  preserved  in  the  new  world  of 
German  culture,  i.e.  by  the  Church  ;  it  was  her  care  that 
hindered  the  thread  of  development  from  being  utterly 
severed.  But  if  the  Church  was  to  effect  tliis,  it  was 
necessary  that  it  should  strengthen  beside  the  State, 
become  a  state  in  the  State,  grow  rich,  gain  power  and 
influence.  What  the  Church  gained  was  thus  indeed 
lost  to  the  existent  State,  but  only  to  be  preserved  to 
mankind.  The  treasures  of  old-world  cultivatioi],  the 
produce  of  millenniums  of  labour,  were  concealed  for  later 
ages  in  the  Church ;  for  when  the  State  perished,  the 
Church  did  not  perish  with  it,  but  remained,  and  was 
the  means  of  handing  over  what  was  saved  to  the  young 
nations,  of  raising  them  to  a  new  culture.  And  not  till 
the  further  development  was  thus  prepared  for,  was  the 
sign  for  the  revolution  given  far  off  in  Asia.  The  Huns 
rushed  upon  the  Goths;  the  Goths  poured  into  the 
Eonian  Empire.  The  death  hour  of  the  ancient  world 
had  struck.  The  Eoman  Empire  might  now  be  de- 
stroyed, the  thread  of  culture  development  was  not 
broken,  the  new  nations  became  the  heirs  of  the  old 
nations. 


CHAP.  I.]  A  PERISHING  WORLD.  233 

It  is  from  this  point  of  view  that  we  can  understand 
the  task  of  charity  to  have  been  a  double  one.  It  had 
first  to  stand,  so  to  speak,  at  the  deathbed  of  the  old 
world  with  its  aid  and  comforts.  These  were  such  times 
of  most  appalling  misery,  of  most  wholesale  wretchedness, 
as  do  not  recur  in  the  history  of  the  world.  Love, 
Christian  compassion,  at  least  alleviated  and  mitigated 
the  death-pangs  of  the  dying  world ;  and  even  if  she 
could  not  prevent  the  general  misery,  she  yet  dried  the 
tears  of  individuals,  and  afforded  comfort  and  repose  to 
countless  numbers.  But  she  had  also  to  stand  with  her 
aid  and  service  at  the  cradle  of  the  new  age.  Christian 
charity  became  undoubtedly  one  of  the  main  educational 
agencies  for  the  young  German  nations,  helped  to  win 
them  for  the  Church,  bound  them  to  the  Church,  and  co- 
operated in  the  most  diverse  manners  in  their  trans- 
formation. 

What  Christian  love  effected  towards  the  fulfilment  of 
this  second  task,  what  she  did  for  the  education  of  the 
German  nations,  will  not  be  spoken  of  till  we  treat  of 
the  beginnings  of  the  Middle  Ages.  Wliat  we  have  in 
the  first  place  to  deal  with,  is  the  exercise  of  charity  in 
the  perishing  old  world. 

A  perishing  world — -what  a  summary  of  sorrow  and 
misery,  of  anxiety  and  distress,  is  contained  in  the  words  ! 
Let  us  try  to  take  a  glance  at  it,  that  we  may  the  more 
plainly  perceive  how  gigantic  was  the  labour  now  imposed 
on  Christian  love. 

If  we  turn  over  the  writings  of  the  time,  the  sermons 
of  great  preacliers,  their  letters  and  their  devotional 
works,  we  come  upon  thousandfold  complaints  and  sighs 
over  the  misery  which  everywhere  prevailed ;  but  no 
complaint   recurs    so  frequently  as  that  concerning  the 


23-i         CimiSTIAN  CHAllITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [boOK  III. 

increasingly  oppressive  taxation.  Let  us  then  also  first 
put  in  the  foremost  place  this  feature  in  the  sad  linea- 
ments of  the  perishing  world,  which  is  so  extremely 
distinctive  of  the  whole  picture.  Already,  before  Con- 
stantine,  we  become  aware  of  such  complaints,  but  they 
now  form  the  heart-rending  cry  of  the  whole  people. 
The  State  at  that  period  knew  of  scarcely  any  other  than 
fiscal  interests.  The  whole  land  was  treated  as  a  domain 
of  the  Emperor,  from  which  his  officials  exerted  them- 
selves to  extort,  by  ever  new  arts  and  violence,  as  much 
money  as  possible.  For  money,  and  much  money,  was 
wanted  at  Constantinople.  First,  the  maintenance  of  the 
court  swallowed  up  enormous  sums.  A  brilliant  court, 
oriental  pomp  and  luxury,  formed,  as  we  have  seen,  part 
of  the  new  system  of  government  begun  by  Diocletian  and 
carried  out  by  Constantine.  Everything  was  calculated  to 
be  imposing  in  the  eyes  of  the  people.  The  Emperor  now 
sat  in  his  palace  in  the  sacred  chambers,  surrounded  by 
the  seven  great  dignitaries  of  the  crown  and  a  host  of 
court  officials,  chamberlains,  eunuchs,  guards  and  in- 
numerable attendants  of  every  kind.  In  the  palace  there 
was  everywhere  the  rustling  of  silk  and  the  glittering  of 
gold  and  jewels.  The  dignitaries  drew  large  incomes, 
the  whole  crew  swallowed  up  immense  sums.  An 
occasional  notice  informs  us,  that  a  court  cook  received, 
besides  his  considerable  income,  twenty  portions  from  the 
imperial  kitchens  ;  and  Julian,  who  indeed  was  but  a 
short  time  at  the  head  of  affairs,  says  derisively,  that  a 
court  barber  was  going  about  in  the  dress  of  a  minister 
of  finance.  Then  there  was  the  army,  which,  though 
inferior  to  that  of  former  times,  cost  incomparably  more, 
for  officers  and  soldiers  had  become  effeminate  ;  then 
the  second  army  of  civilians,  the  entire  many-membered 


CHAP.  I.]  A  PERISHING  WORLD.  235 

bureaucracy,  which  was  now  looked  upon  as  necessary  to 
the  administration  of  the  Empire,  the  Pretorian  pr?efects, 
the  Diocesans,  the  120  provincial  governors,  each  of 
whom  received,  besides  perquisites,  an  income  of  £4500, 
the  crowds  of  officials  and  secretaries  of  lower  rank.  If 
we  remember  the  cost  of  the  games,  which  were  celebrated 
with  ever-increasing  splendour,  the  cost  of  buildings, 
always  a  special  fancy  of  despotic  rulers,  the  heaps  of 
gold,  which  the  Barbarians,  who  could  no  longer  be 
restrained,  carried  off  under  the  name  of  imperial  largess, 
but  in  reality  as  tribute ;  and  lastly,  if  we  take  into 
account,  that  there  never  was  a  more  fraudulent  official 
world  than  at  this  time,  that  embezzlement  and  defrauding 
were  the  order  of  the  day,  and  often  brought  the  imperial 
menage  into  difficulties,  we  shall  be  able  to  gain  an 
approximate  notion  of  what  the  State  consumed.  The 
Emperor  was  no  longer  in  a  condition  to  protect  the 
people,  he  could  only  exhaust  them.  "  The  splendour 
of  one  was  the  ruin  of  all,"  says  Salvian.^ 

Now'  all  this  had  to  be  levied  from  a  population  already 
poor,  and  daily  growing  more  so.  For  the  rich,  the  high 
officials,  the  great  proprietors,  even  the  Church  and  its 
officers,  rejoiced — thanks  to  imperial  favour — in  great 
privileges  and  exemptions.  "  When  a  tax  is  to  be  raised," 
says  Salvian,  who  may  indeed  occasionally  exaggerate, 
but  who  nevertheless  expresses  complaints  which  were 
universally  diffused,  "  the  rich  know  how  to  manage  that 
the  poor  may  have  to  bear  the  main  burden,  while,  when 
a  mitigation  of  taxation  takes  place,  they  take  care  that 
the  poor  shall  get  nothing,  the  rich  everything."^  The 
mass  of  the  people,  annually  diminishing  in  numbers,  and 
whose  property  was  continually  being  lessened  by  wars, 
by  the  irruptions  of  the  Barbarians,  alone  bore  the  heavy 


236         CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  m. 

burdens.  Vespasian  computed  the  whole  taxation  of  the 
Eoman  Empire  as  amounting  in  his  days  to  £30,000,000 
annually.  The  populatioh  of  the  Empire  might  then  be 
from  about  ninety  to  one  hundred  millions.  But  now  Gaul, 
which  contained  at  most  eight  millions  of  inhabitants,  had 
to  raise  £19,200,000,  i.e.  about  48s.  per  head,  in  land 
tax  alone.  Now,  though  the  land  tax  was  the  highest  of 
all  imposts,  a  multitude  of  other  burdens  were  added, 
poll-tax,  customs  and  rates  of  various  kinds,  and  many 
with  unusual  titles,  the  furnishing  of  natural  produc- 
tions, crown-gold  on  the  accession  of  an  Emperor,  and 
many  others. 

Almost  worse  than  the  high  rate  of  taxation  was  the 
harshness  with  which  it  was  collected.  Humane  Emperors 
tried,  indeed,  but  were  unable  to  alleviate  it.  Unless 
the  machinery  of  the  State  was  to  come  to  a  standstill, 
all  that  was  possible  must  be  extorted  from  the  impover- 
ished people.  Besides,  what  did  the  Emperor  know  of 
the  treatment  they  received  from  his  officers !  He  only 
read  in  his  sacred  chambers  the  rose-coloured  accounts 
that  were  furnished  to  him,  and  if  a  complaint  ever 
penetrated  so  far,  care  would  certainly  have  been  previ- 
ously takien  by  bribery  to  have  it  represented  as  mere 
falsehood  and  deception,  and  the  complainers  might  be 
glad  if  nothing  worse  happened  to  them,  than  to  be  sent 
home  with  their  ears  slit.  To  the  financial  and  fiscal 
agents,  from  the  highest  to  the  lowest,  every  new  tax 
was  a  delight.  For  it  gave  them  the  opportunity  of 
providing  for  themselves  and  filling  their  own  pockets,  or 
even  of  proving  themselves  able  officials,  by  extorting 
from  the  people  more  than  was  prescribed,  and  sending 
to  Constantinople  larger  sums  than  were  expected,  as  a 
pure  labour  of  love,  and  to  obtain  imperial  favour  in  the 


CHAP.  I.]  A  PERISHING  WORLD.  237 

surest  manner.  By  long  routine  they  had  learned  the 
art  of  discovering  and  profiting  by  new  sources  of  finance, 
and  as  for  compassion,  they  were  unacquainted  witli  it. 
They  would  take  inexorably  the  last  possession,  would 
deprive  the  wife  of  the  ornament,  the  heirloom  of  better 
days,  which  she  still  wore,  the  child  of  the  golden 
amulet  with  which  its  mother  had  provided  it  as  a 
defence  against  sorcery,  the  poor  of  even  his  garment. 
Those  who  could  not  pay  were  thrown  into  prison,  where 
cruel  treatment,  hunger  and  often  torture  might  per- 
chance extort  concealed  treasures.  Whenever  a  levying 
of  taxes  was  announced,  a  cry  of  grief  and  despair  burst 
from  the  exhausted  population.  The  dungeons  filled, 
many  fled,  some  even  committed  suicide  to  put  an  end 
to  their  woes.  It  is  related  that  parents  sold  their  sons, 
nay,  sacrificed  the  honour  of  their  daughters,  to  be  able 
to  pay  their  taxes  with  the  proceeds.^  Basil  gives,  in 
one  of  his  sermons,  a  heart-rending  description  of  a  father 
who, -to  satisfy  the  tax-gatherer,  has  had  to  sell  one  of  his 
sons,  and  is  hesitating  before  the  terrible  choice,  which 
of  the  three  to  part  with.  The  eldest  ?  But  he  has  the 
right  of  primogeniture  in  his  favour.  The  youngest? 
But  he  is  the  weakest  and  smallest.  The  middle  one  ? 
But  he  is  the  son  who  has  specially  grown  round  his 
heart.^  Certainly  this  was  no  dream  of  the  bishop,  but 
a  picture  drawn  from  the  life.  Palladius  too  on  one 
occasion  tells  of  a  knight  meeting  in  the  desert  a  woman, 
who  told  him  her  sad  tale.  Her  husband  had  been  cast 
into  prison  and  tortured  for  arrears  of  taxes,  her  two  sons 
sold,  herself  often  scourged,  until  she  fled,  and  had  now 
been  wandering  three  days  without  food. 

It  was  a  special  hardship  that  a  tax  computed  accord- 
ing to  landed  property  and  the  number  of  heads  was 


238         CHKISTIA.1J  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [BOOK  III. 

imposed  on  municipal  towns  as  a  lump  sum,  and  that 
then  the  Decurions  had  to  advance  the  money.  The 
only  choice  left  them  was,  either  to  be  plundered  them- 
selves or  to  plunder  others.  Things  came  to  such  a 
pitch,  that  the  Decurions,  i.e.  the  highest  class  in  the 
municipal  population,  the  moneyed  class,  preferred  to 
give  up  house  and  grounds,  place  and  dignity,  only  to  he 
released  from  taxation.  But  a  whole  arsenal  of  laws 
prevented  this,  and  bound  them  with  iron  fetters  to 
property,  which  was  only  a  burden.  The  small  land- 
owners were,  however,  worst  off.  Now  it  was  money 
that  had  to  be  paid  under  no  one  knows  how  many 
names,  now  conveyance  to  be  provided,  horses  to  be  in 
readiness  for  the  imperial  post,  now  corn  or  other  matters 
to  be  furnished.  If  they  did  not  pay,  if  they  did  not  pro- 
vide and  furnish,  they  were  cast  into  prison.  Thousands 
of  small  proprietors  chose  to  sacrifice  their  freedom,  and 
betake  themselves  to  the  great  landowners  in  a  relation 
of  bondage.  Then  the  latter  would  be  obliged  to  provide 
for  them.  There  was  a  rush  to  be  rid  of  freedom,  it  was 
sold  for  a  morsel  of  bread.  In  other  instances  they 
would  simply  decamp,  leave  house  and  grounds  behind, 
and  wander  about  as  mendicants  in  the  towns.  In  Gaul, 
extensive  tracts,  which  were  formerly  flourishing  fields, 
lay  desolate,  vines  grew  wild  without  culture.  From  an 
investigation  made  at  the  turn  of  the  third  and  fourth 
centuries,  it  appeared  that  in  Campania,  fertile  land 
which  usually  yielded  its  cultivators  three  harvests  per 
year,  528,642  jugera  of  formerly  cultivated  land,  i.e.  about 
an  eighth  of  the  entire  province,  lay  quite  waste.  The 
State  in  vain  offered  this  land  to  any  one  capable  of 
paying  the  land  tax  imposed  on  it.  No  one  was  to  be 
foiiud.     Hence  the  neighbouring  landowners  were  forced 


CHAP.  I.]  A  PERISHING  WORLD.  239 

to  pay  the  tax  upon  this  deserted  land  as  well  as  upon 
their  own,  and  were  thus  utterly  ruined.^*^ 

Force  was  now  in  general  the  sole  means  of  govern- 
ment. The  Empire  could  only  be  kept  together  by 
bands  of  iron.  The  period  of  free  trade  was  over.  An 
organization  of  labour  was  again  attained,  but  of  what  a 
kind !  Purely  an  organization  of  force.  The  age  ^\■as 
capable  of  none  other.  "While  the  lot  of  the  slave  was 
mitigated,  all  were  really  becoming  slaves.  In  this 
development,  with  the  beginnings  of  which  we  became 
acquainted  in  the  preceding  period,  fiscal  interests  played 
a  considerable  part,  nay,  were  here  as  everywhere  the 
ruling  interests.  During  the  whole  imperial  period  there 
existed  a  widely  branching  system  of  contributions  of 
natural  products,  and  of  labour  of  all  kinds.  Hand 
labour  and  horse  labour  had  to  be  furnished,  the  corn 
and  all  the  provisions  needed  by  the  army  had  to  be 
delivered  gratis,  by  those  who  were  bound  to  do  so. 
From  the  time  of  Constantiue  the  pursuit  after  freedom 
from  these  burdens  begins ;  whoever  could  attain  it 
sought  release.  The  result  was,  that  in  fact  many 
classes  •  enjoyed  this  immunity;  the  palace  ofiicials,  tlie 
lessees  of  estates,  the  Church  and  its  property,  the  pro- 
fessors and  the  inhabitants  of  Constantinople  obtained  it. 
They  thus  became  a  still  more  insupportable  burden  to 
those  less  highly  favoured,  and  the  further  consequence 
■was,  that  tliese  were  the  more  strictly  bound  to  them  by 
laws  and  penalties,  and  themselves  and  their  children 
kept  to  the  position  they  occupied  in  the  State.  Hence 
arose  one  of  the  most  characteristic  traits  of  the  political 
economy  of  the  age,  the  state  of  obligation  in  whicli  all 
classes  and  associations  in  any  way  bound  to  the  State 
were  held.     Nay,  the  children  being  also  bound  to  occupy 


240         CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [BOOK  III. 

the  same  position  as  their  father,  it  was  in  form  a  system 
of  caste.^^ 

The  upper  classes — to  begin  with  these — were  obliged 
to  undertake  the  office  of  praetors,  of  whom  there  were 
three  in  Constantinople  and  two  in  Eome.  The  office 
itself  was  no  longer  of  any  importance,  but  combined 
with  it  was  the  duty  imposed  upon  its  holders,  of  giving 
the  public  games  at  their  own  expense,  for  the  games 
formed  part  of  the  official  pomp  with  which  the  govern- 
ment was  surrounded.  Eor  the  games  actors  were 
required.  Hence  actors  were  forbidden  to  relinquish 
their  business.  They  were  obliged  to  continue  actors, 
and  their  children  must  become  such  in  their  turn. 
Even  if  they  desired  to  be  Christians,  which  was  only 
possible  on  condition  of  their  giving  up  their  occupation, 
their  joining  the  Church  was  only  permitted  under  strict 
limitations.  The  mariners  who  carried  corn  to  Eome  and 
Constantinople,  the  store-keepers,  the  bakers,  butchers, 
and  workmen  of  all  kinds,  who  supplied  the  wants  of  the 
army,  the  fire-engine  men  formed  corporations,  which 
they  might  not  leave,  and  the  son  was  in  his  turn  obliged 
to  become  what  his  father  had  been.  The  office  of  the 
Decurions,  formerly  a  post  of  honour,  had  become  one  of 
constraint,  as  we  have  already  seen  ;  and  as  the  Decurions 
were  bound  to  their  office,  so  too  were  the  Coloni  in  the 
country  to  the  sod.  The  Coloni  were  partly  freemen, 
partly  slaves,  to  whom  a  large  landowner  had  delivered 
up  a  portion  of  his  land  to  cultivate,  for  payment  in  kind. 
Hitherto  the  freemen  among  them  might,  if  they  chose, 
leave  and  seek  for  another  and  perhaps  more  advantageous 
position,  while  the  slaves  might  be  sold  by  their  masters. 
In  fiscal  interest,  for  the  sake  of  ensuring  the  taxes  to  be 
furnished  by  the  property,  they  were  now  bound  step  by 


OUAP.  I.]  A  PERISHING  WORLD.  241 

step  more  firmly  to  the  soil  {glebce  adscripti).  At  first 
the  masters  were  forbidden  to  sell  their  slaves  from 
province  to  province,  and  then  to  sell  them  at  all.  The 
slave-Coloni  could  only  be  sold  with  the  fields  which 
they  cultivated.  To  themselves  this  was  in  a  certain 
sense  an  improvement  of  their  condition.  From  slaves 
they  had  become  serfs.  But  equally  had  the  free  become 
serfs.  They  too  could  not  leave  the  land  they  tilled.^^ 
Thus  all  free  movement  was  done  away  with ;  every  one 
"was  bound  with  fetters  to  the  position  which  he  once 
occupied,  however  insupportable  might  be  the  burden  he 
had  to  bear.  Only  in  the  region  of  the  Church  was  there 
liberty.  If  any  one  entered  into  the  service  of  the 
Church,  or  became  a  monk,  settled  in  the  desert,  went 
into  a  monastery,  he  was  free,  he  shook  off  the  whole 
burden  at  once.  Hence  that  pressure  into  the  Church's 
service,  that  fleeing  from  the  world,  that  rapid  increase 
of  monasticism,  until  the  State  there  too  intervened,  there 
too  drew  limits,  forbidding  entrance  into  the  service  of 
the  Church,  or  into  a  monastery  to  one,  and  uniting  it 
with  certain  conditions  to  another. 

That  in  such  a  state  trade  and  commerce,  industry 
and  agriculture  could  not  flourish,  that  the  lively  inter- 
course of  the  earlier  imperial  times  should  come  to  a 
stop,  needs  no  proof.  Much  wealth  still  existed.  The 
treasures  accumulated  in  former  centuries  were  not  yet 
consumed.  There  were  families  of  enormous  landed 
property,  in  whose  numerous  palaces  incalculable  riches 
were  amassed,  who,  like  the  senator  Symmachus,  could 
squander  £400,000  on  festivities  in  the  prtetorship  of 
his  son,  or  like  the  senator  Maxinius,  £800,000  on  a 
like  occasion,  without  ruining  themselves.  But  property 
was  unequally  distributed,  and  its  distribution   became 

Q 


242         CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  ni. 

increasingly  unequal.  The  circulation  of  the  blood  in 
the  body  of  the  Empire  had  stagnated.  Capital  was  not 
invested  in  profitable  undertakings,  but  squandered  in 
semi-barbarous  luxury.  Wiio,  too,  would  invest  his  money 
in  industrial  or  commercial  undertakings,  or  employ  it  in 
the  improvement  of  estates,  when  the  general  insecurity 
made  the  result  so  uncertain  ?  "  In  the  whole  Eoman 
sphere,"  sighs  Salvian,  "  peace  and  security  are  equally 
null."  ^^  Who,  too,  would  labour  only  to  feed  the  greedy 
world  of  officials,  and  to  have  his  hard  earninf]js  wrung  from 
him  by  the  tax-gatherer,  or  to  lose  them  at  the  next 
inroad  of  the  Barbarians  ?  The  nobles,  the  powerful,  and 
the  rich  still  indeed  found  protection ;  the  humble  and 
obscure  were  exposed  defenceless  to  every  extortion  and 
oppression.  How  often  in  the  sermons  of  this  period  is 
the  history  of  Naboth's  vineyard  brought  forward  !  "  The 
history  of  Naboth,"  says  Ambrose,'*  "  is,  if  time  is  con- 
sidered, old ;  in  fact  it  is  repeated  daily.  Not  one  Ahab 
is  born,  but  one  daily,  and  he  never  dies  in  this  generation. 
If  one  is  killed,  there  are  more  to  take  his  place.  Not 
one  poor  Naboth  is  slain,  but  Naboths  are  daily  destroyed, 
the  poor  is  murdered  every  day."  Means  and  ways 
enough  were  open  to  the  rich  and  respectable  to  oppress 
and  drain  the  poor,  and  besides  the  testimony  of  the 
Church  and  its  discipline,  there  was  no  hindrance  in  their 
path.  Usury  especially  assumed  the  largest  dimensions. 
Thus  the  relation  of  the  rich  to  the  poor  became  increas- 
ingly unequal,  thus  the  numbers  of  those  entirely  without 
property  progressively  increased.  A  few  rich,  who,  as 
Chrysostom  so  often  describes  them  in  his  sermons,  lived 
in  luxury,  ate  from  gold  plate  on  silver  tables,  with  troops 
of  running  footmen,  satellites,  slaves,  around  them,  rode 
on  golden-bridled   horses,  or   drove  in  golden  decorated 


CHAP.  I.]  A  PERISHING  WORLD.  243 

carriages,  slept  on  beds  of  ivory ;  and  beside  them  were 
the  countless  numbers  of  a  proletariat  suffering  the  want 
of  the  commonest  necessaries.  In  every  town  there  were 
crowds  of  beggars,  they  filled  the  high  roads,  and  went 
from  place  to  place,  lay  by  hundreds  in  the  public  places, 
and  especially  before  the  churches,  naked,  hungry,  freezing 
with  cold,  sick  and  emaciated,  calling  on  the  passers-by 
for  assistance,  showing  their  wounds,  their  sores,  their 
deformities,  and  trying  in  every  way  to  excite  compassion. 
All  courage  was  extinct  in  these  unfortunates ;  powerless 
to  rise,  they  bore  in  gloomy  indifference  whatever  might 
happen  to  them.  Many  fled  to  the  Barbarians,  because 
life  seemed  more  bearable  among  them  than  in  the 
Eoman  Empire ;  or,  driven  to  despair,  began  to  rob  and 
plunder  like  them,  thus  increasing  the  general  misery. 
Gaul  was  for  many  decades  spoiled  by  hosts  of  those  who 
had  been  driven  to  insurrection  (the  so-called  BagandiB)  by 
the  oppressions  of  men  of  office  or  property.  If  any  unusual 
calamity  were  added  to  the  general  misery,  a  drought,  as 
in  the  time  of  Basil  in  Cappadocia,  a  pestilence  like  many 
which  visited  the  Empire,  a  wretchedness  arose  which 
baffles  all  description.^^ 

Distress  was  brought  to  a  climax  by  the  continual 
wars  and  the  irruptions  of  the  Barbarians.  The  struggle 
of  the  Germans  against  Rome  assumed  after  Constantine 
more  and  more  the  gloomy  character  of  a  struggle  for 
life  and  death.  The  Romans  regarded  everything  as 
allowable  against  the  Barbarians.  If  once  they  succeeded 
in  gaining  temporary  advantages,  often  enough  more  by 
intrigues  and  treachery  than  by  valour,  they  then  sought 
utterly  to  extirpate  their  hated  antagonists,  who  in  their 
turn  requited  them  in  like  manner.  They  traversed  the 
whole  of  Gaul  as  far  as  into  Spain,  murdering  and  pluu- 


244        CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [boOK  ITI. 

dering  everywhere  ;  the  Thracian  peninsula  was  for  a  long 
time  entirely  in  their  power ;  in  tlieir  ships  they  visited 
Southern  Italy,  Greece,  and  Asia  Minor.  In  Jerusalem, 
the  colony  of  pious  men  and  women,  presided  over  by 
Jerome,  trembled  before  them.  Scarcely  was  there  a 
place  left  in  the  Eoman  Empire,  which  the  light-haired, 
blue-eyed  hordes  had  not  visited  as  conquerors  and  plun- 
derers. Numerous  towns  and  villages  lay  in  ruins,  far 
and  wide  the  country  was  trampled  on,  the  fruit-trees 
hewn  down,  the  houses  burnt,  the  inhabitants  put  to  the 
sword  or  led  away  prisoners  or  wandering  about  in  beg- 
gary. We  can  understand  how  Gregory  the  Great  exclaims 
in  one  of  his  sermons :  "  What  more  can  befall  us  in  this 
world  ?  We  see  nothing  but  sorrows,  we  hear  nothing 
but  complaints.  Ah,  Eome  1  formerly  mistress  of  the 
world,  what  has  happened  to  thee  ?  Where  is  the  senate  ? 
Where  are  the  people  ?  Yet  why  should  I  speak  of  men ; 
the  buildings  are  in  ruins,  the  walls  are  falling  ;"  and  how, 
on  another  occasion,  he  concludes  a  sermon  with  the 
words :  "  You  all  know  how  our  troubles  are  increasing. 
Everywhere  the  sword  !  Everywhere  death  !  I  am  weary 
of  life."'' 

Who  was  to  help  in  this  universal  misery  ?  The  State 
could  not.  It  made,  during  this  whole  period,  no  serious 
attempt  to  relieve  the  poor.  It  provided  the  Church  with 
large  means,  it  enriched  it  with  donations  and  privileges, 
made  over  to  it  a  portion  of  the  contributions  of  corn, 
with  which  a  sort  of  maintenance  of  the  poor  had  been 
carried  on,  remitted  also  certain  orders  concerning  the 
police  of  the  poor,  the  proliibition  of  mendicancy,  and 
enactments  relating  to  the  treatment  of  beggars ;  but  as 
for  the  relief  of  the  poor,  that  was  entirely  abandoned  to 
the  Church.     The  Church  alone  could  help,  and  to  her 


CHAP.  I.]  A  PERISHING  WOELD.  245 

glory  it  must  be  said  that  she  did  much,  and  effected  a 
great  result.  Her  task  was  indeed  quite  different  from 
what  it  had  been  in  earlier  days.  Then,  only  isolated 
cases  had  to  be  dealt  with,  now  a  wholesale  poverty  of 
the  most  terrible  kind.  Even  this  one  circumstance  could 
not  fail  to  exercise  a  most  powerful  influence  upon  the 
whole  character  of  the  relief  of  the  poor.  It  operated 
upon  even  the  motives  of  charity.  For,  undoubtedly,  it 
was  under  the  impression  of  this  wholesale  poverty,  and 
in  the  effort  to  procure  the  most  abundant  possible 
donations  for  the  poor,  that  the  Church,  in  whose  mem- 
bers the  ardour  of  first  love  was  already  considerably 
cooled,  so  strongly  brought  forth  the  motive  of  reward, 
the  purification  from  sin  to  be  obtained  by  almsgiving. 
Still  more  must  this  wholesale  pauperism  have  influenced 
the  kind  and  manner  of  relief  A  congregational  care 
of  the  poor,  such  as  existed  in  the  first  period,  became 
increasingly  an  impossibility.  In  its  place  appeared,  on 
the  one  hand,  a  wholesale  almsgiving  ;  on  the  other,  chari- 
table institutions,  of  which  hospitals  and  monasteries 
were  the  central  points.  And  with  these  we  have  already 
reached  the  transition  to  the  Middle  Ages.  As  in  many 
another  aspect,  so  too  in  the  sphere  of  charity,  this  period 
is  the  preparation  for  the  Middle  Ages.  If  the  period 
before  Constantine  may  be  characterized  as  that  of  congre- 
gational or  Church  relief  of  the  poor,  this  feature  now 
more  and  more  recedes,  till  in  the  Middle  Ages  it  entirely 
ceases,  and  hospitals  and  monasteries  become  the  central- 
points  of  a  charity,  resolving  itself  into  wholesale  alms- 
giving. 


CHAPTER    II. 

PEOSPERITY  AND  DECAY  OF  CONGREGATIONAL  RELIEF  OF 
THE  POOR. 

The  first  century  and  a  half  after  the  victory  form  one  of 
the  most  brilliant  periods  in  the  history  of  the  Church. 
The  longer  the  conflict  had  endured,  the  more  violent 
the  last  persecution  had  been,  the  stronger  would  be  the 
impression  of  the  change,  and  the  Church,  elevated  by  the 
consciousness  of  victory,  developed  her  strength  on  all 
sides.  Under  Constantine,  while  still  considerably  in  the 
minority,  she  rapidly  won  the  masses  of  tbe  people ;  one 
hundred  and  fifty  years  after,  the  heathen  had  become  an 
utterly  unimportant  minority.  In  every  city  churches  vying 
in  magnificence  with  the  temples  were  now  built.  Worship 
received  during  this  period  its  full  development ;  dogma 
was,  after  many  violent  contests,  definitely  settled  at  the 
great  (Ecumenical  Synods.  A  series  of  great  bishops  and 
teachers,  of  whom  we  never  find  again  so  brilliant  a  suc- 
cession,— Athanasius,  the  three  Cappadocians,  Basil  the 
Great,  Gregory  of  Nazianzus,  Gregory  of  Nyssa,  Chrysos- 
tom  in  the  East,  Ambrose,  Jerome,  Augustine,  Leo  the 
Great  in  the  West,  to  name  only  the  most  illustrious, — 
testify  to  the  power  which  lay  in  the  new  faith.  This 
development  of  strength  manifested  itself  also  in  the  de- 
partment of  charity.  It  was  both  the  period  of  greatest 
prosperity    in    Church  relief   of   the   poor,    and  at    the 

246 


CHAP.  II.]       CONGREGATIONAL  RELIEF  OF  THE  POOR.  247 

same  time  that  which  created  in  the  liospital  and  the 
monastery  the  central  point  of  the  charity  of  succeeding 
centuries. 

The  change  in  the  condition  of  the  Church  could  not 
fail*  to  accrue  to  the  especial  profit  of  the  relief  of  the 
poor.  The  Church  could  now  act  freely  and  openly, 
there  was  no  longer  any  necessity  for  acting  secretly. 
Means  now  came  in  more  plentifully,  and  powerful 
personal  assistance  was  more  abundantly  at  command. 
In  place  of  the  State's  disfavour,  there  was  now  its 
supreme  approbation,  the  effort  to  support  and  promote 
the  work  of  the  Church  in  every  respect.  That 
Constantine  already  perceived  the  importance  of  this 
work  is  proved  by  the  fact,  that,  soon  after  his  recogni- 
tion of  the  Church,  he  awarded  to  it  a  portion  of  the 
corn  contributions.^  The  increasing  respect,  too,  in 
which  the  bishops  were  held,  the  recognition  of  their 
jurisdiction,  the  many  privileges  accorded  to  the  Church, 
the  germs  even  of  a  christianization  of  legislation,  all 
contributed  to  promote  its  designs.  That  the  Church 
did  not  fail  to  profit  by  these  favourable  circumstances  is 
shown  by  the  testimony  of  its  opponent,  the  Emperor 
Julian,  given  just  at  this  time.  For  he  could  not  help 
recognizing  the  charity  of  the  Church,  and  seeing  in  it  a 
chief  means  of  that  rapid  propagation  of  the  Christian 
faith,  which  was  to  him  so  abhorrent. 

The  kind  of  work,  its  organization,  its  principles,  at  first 
remained  the  same.  All  this  had  indeed  been  handed 
down  from  the  times  before  the  conflict.  Only  now 
everything  was  extended  and  assumed  larger  dimensions. 
Tiie  direction  lay  as  before  in  the  hand  of  the  bishop, 
numerous  deacons  and  deaconesses  were  his  assistants, 
the  matricula*  contained    the   names  of   hundreds   and 


248         CHKISTIAN  CHAKITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  m. 

thousands  to  whom  the  church  granted  assistance.  The 
larger  towns,  such  as  Eome  and  Alexandria,  were 
divided  into  districts,  each  of  which  was  committed  to 
the  special  oversight  of  a  deacon.  Special  houses  were 
also  erected  in  the  different  quarters  of  the  town,  in 
which  the  poor  assembled  and  were  fed.  These  were 
called  Diakonia,^  because  they  also  were  under  the 
direction  of  a  deacon.  The  number  of  deacons  and 
deaconesses  was  of  necessity  considerably  increased. 
The  resolution  of  the  Synod  of  Caesarea  (a.d.  314-320), 
according  to  which  there  were  to  be  but  seven  deacons 
in  each  town,  was  without  effect.  With  the  exception  of 
certain  cities,  in  which,  as  in  Eome,  this  number  was  kept 
to,  and  other  kinds  of  assistance  awarded  in  compensation 
to  the  deacons,  it  was  greatly  exceeded.  In  Alexandria 
there  were  numerous  deacons;  in  Constantinople  Justinian 
limited  the  number  in  the  church  of  St.  Sophia  to 
one  hundred  deacons  and  forty  deaconesses,*  hence  it 
must  before  have  been  still  larger.  Besides  the  deacons, 
who  received  payment  from  the  Church,  there  were  also 
those  who  served  voluntarily  and  without  remuneration.'^ 
The  objects  of  relief  were  the  distressed  of  every  kind, 
widows,  orphans,  foundlings,  the  sick,  cripples,  those 
incapable  of  work,  those  of  decayed  fortune  through  the 
distress  of  the  times,  and  all  who  were  unable  to  earn 
a  living.  For  all  these  the  church  interested  itself,  and 
the  deacons  were  especially  to  search  out  those  poor,  who 
from  shame  did  not  venture  to  come  forward  and  entreat 
assistance.^  There  were  many  thousands  who  thus  lived 
upon  the  gifts  of  the  church.  The  matricula  of  the 
Church  of  Antioch  numbered  in  Chrysostom's  days 
3000  widows  and  virgins.  To  these  Chrysostom  adds 
many  who  were  in  prisons,  who  were  lying  sick  in  the 


CHAP.  II.]       CONGREGATIONAL  EELIEF  OF  THE  POOR.  249 

Xenodochium,  the  strangers,  the  lepers,  the  daily  sup- 
pliants, to  all  of  whom  the  church  gave  food  and 
clothing/  At  another  time  he  speaks  of  hosts  of 
registered  poor,  of  multitudes  of  sick,  of  tens  of  thousands 
of  persons  in  distress.^  In  Alexandria  the  matricula  in 
the  time  of  John  the  Almoner  included  7500  names,^ 
and  at  Eome,  in  the  time  of  Gregory  the  Great,  it  formed 
a  thick  volume.*"  These  were,  however,  only  the  settled 
poor  of  the  Church.  To  these  were  added  in  ever-increas- 
ing swarms  the  wandering  mendicants,  who  crowded  into 
the  towns,  besieged  the  churches,  and  who  equally 
expected  assistance  from  the  officers  of  the  church. 
Gregory  of  Nyssa  describes  how  they  assembled  in  troops, 
and  sought  to  excite  compassion.  One  would  stretch 
out  a  withered  hand,  another  would  show  his  swollen 
stomach,  a  third  his  cancerous  leg.  Each  would  expose 
the  part  in  which  he  was  suffering,  to  show  his  misery.*^ 
Chrysostom  speaks  of  the  crowds  of  beggars  he  used  to 
meet  in  going  to  church.*^  Ambrose  represents  them  to 
us  as  pressing  and  crying  out  aloud,  while  the  most 
deserving  and  needy  waited  silently,  till  something  was 
given  them.*^  So  too  does  Augustine,  for  there  is  not 
a  preacher  of  the  time  in  whose  sermons  we  do  not  find 
an  echo  of  the  tremendous  distress  which  sun-ounds  liim. 
In  the  presence  of  such  wholesale  poverty,  an  indi- 
vidualizing care  of  the  poor,  like  that  of  former  times, 
was  of  necessity  impossible.  If  we  even  leave  out  of 
thfi  question  beggars  arriving  from  without,  who  were 
satisfied  with  a  single  gift,  and  then  went  their  way,  or 
who  found  a  lodging  in  one  of  the  benevolent  institutions 
now  everywhere  arising,  in  a  house  for  strangers,  or  an 
asylum  for  the  sick  or  poor,  if  we  reckon  only  the  poor 
belonging    to    the    church    itself,   their    numbers    were 


250        CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  in. 

already  much  too  large  to  suffer  assistance,  adapted  and 
proportioned  to  their  circumstances,  to  be,  after  due 
inquiry,  extended  to  all.  In  Antioch,  Chrysostom  reckons 
100,000  Christians,  of  whom  according  to  his  statement 
10,000  were  well-to-do,  10,000  quite  poor,  and  the 
remaining  80,000  in  circumstances  varying  between  the 
two  former  classes.^*  Even  supposing  only  these  10,000 
to  be  objects  for  relief,  although  the  former  thorough  care 
of  the  poor  would  have  included  many  besides  within 
its  sphere  of  operations,  it  is  evident  that  the  numbers 
are  already  far  too  large  for  an  individual  care  of  the 
poor.  A  regular  administration  of  relief  had  to  be 
adhered  to,  but  that  separate  care  of  the  poor  as  indi- 
viduals, which  had  been  possible  in  the  small  supervisible 
churches,  which  were  moreover  filled  with  an  active  con- 
sciousness of  their  unity,  was  no  longer  so  in  such  enormous 
churches,  consisting  besides  of  so  many  dead  members. 

There  would,  indeed,  have  been  one  means  of  obviating 
this  evil  state  of  things.  The  large  churches  might 
have  been  divided  into  smaller,  and  thus  better  adapted 
to  the  development  of  a  genuine  church  life.  It  was 
fatal  not  only  to  charity,  but  to  church  life  in  general, 
that  not  only  was  this  way  not  taken,  but  that,  on  the 
contrary,  even  the  existing  beginnings  of  the  formation 
of  smaller  churches  were  suppressed.  The  reason  is 
found  in  the  ascendency  of  the  episcopal  office.  A 
Church  was  only  to  be  thought  of  as  under  the  guidance 
of  one  bishop ;  churches  and  episcopal  dioceses  were 
coincident.  Even  if  in  a  larger  town  several  places  of 
worship  existed,  still  the  collective  Christians  of  the 
town,  like  the  100,000  of  Chrysostom's  times,  at  Antioch, 
formed  only  one  church.  The  service  in  the  several 
places  of  worship,  in  which  the  bishop  could  not  himself 


CHAP.  11.]       CONGREGATIONAL  RELIEF  OF  THE  POOR.  251 

be  present,  was  provided  for  by  presbyters  either 
appointed  thereto  once  for  all,  or  only  for  each  separate 
Sunday,  by  the  bishop.  The  former  was,  e.g.,  the  case  in 
Alexandria,  the  latter  in  Eome.^*  But  a  severance  of 
churches,  and  especially  a  separate  administration  of 
property,  did  not  exist.  For  all  the  means  of  the 
church,  and  all  the  gifts  of  its  members,  flowed  into  a 
common  treasury,  which  the  bishop  administered,  and 
out  of  which  he  provided  for  the  collective  clergy  of  the 
town,  and  also  for  all  its  poor.  Nay,  the  Church 
stretched  beyond  the  town,  and  included  the  surrounding 
country  district.  Where  the  Church  had  been  planted 
in  the  villages  from  the  town,  this  was  naturally  the  case. 
But  even  where,  in  the  smaller  places,  independent 
churches  under  country  bishops  had  for  a  long  time 
existed,  these  too  now  came  into  dependence.  The 
bishops  of  the  smaller  places  were  either  entirely  done 
away  with  and  replaced  by  presbyters  sent  by  the  town 
bishop,  or  where  they  remained  as  country  bishops,  their 
sphere  of  operations  was  limited,  and  they  were  subor- 
dinated to  the  town  bishops,  even  with  reference  to  the 
administration  of  property.^^  As  long  as  Christianity 
had  its  professors  chiefly  in  the  towns,  this  might  be  to 
a  certain  degree  justifiable.  It  was  otherwise  when,  in 
the  course  of  the  fourth  century,  the  country  population 
also  were  converted  to  the  Christian  faith.  But  the 
bishops  of  the  larger  towns,  who  had  now  attained  to 
great  consideration,  knew  how  to  prevent  in  their  own 
interest  the  formation  of  independent  country  churches. 
Several  synods  expressly  forbade  the  appointment  of 
bishops  in  the  country."  The  frequently  recurring 
prohibition  of  the  alienation  of  the  property  of  country 
churches,  without  the  consent  of  the  bishop,  was  cal- 


252         CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [boOK  HI. 

culated  to  keep  these  churches  in  a  state  of  dependence 
■with  respect  to  the  legal  disposal  of  property.^^  The 
rule  everywhere  held  good,  that  whatever  accrued  to 
country  churches  of  landed  or  other  property,  was, 
according  to  the  ancient  canon,  to  come  under  the  power 
of  the  bishop.^^  Not  before  the  end  of  the  fifth  century 
do  we  meet  with  the  first  traces  of  the  legal  indepen- 
dence of  single  churches  with  respect  to  property,  and 
in  Gaul  alone  was  a  proper  parochial  system  arrived  at 
from  the  commencement  of  the  sixth.  Elsewhere  this 
■was  not  effected  till  still  later.  But  it  was  then  too 
late,  a  genuine  church  life  could  no  longer  be  developed. 
During  the  entire  period  of  the  Middle  Ages,  Christian 
life  was  sick  of  this  disorder,  that  there  were  indeed 
parishes,  but  no  churches. 

If  we  recollect  in  how  close  a  connection  church  life 
and  charity  stand  with  each  other,  we  shall  easily 
perceive  how  great  an  influence  this  depression  of  church 
life  would  have  upon  charity.  If  the  latter  had  in  early 
times  borne  an  entirely  congregational,  a  church  character, 
it  now  forfeited  this  more  and  more.  In  place  of  the 
relief  of  the  poor  by  the  Church,  there  aj)peared  on  the 
one  side  a  wholesale  almsgiving,  on  the  other  benevolent 
institutions. 

One  symptom  of  the  change  which  was  taking  place, 
■was  the  entire  abolition  of  tlie  Agapse.  For  it  was  on 
them  especially  that  the  family-like  unity  of  the  Church 
was  so  fully  impressed.  For  a  long  time,  indeed,  they 
had  ceased  to  be  the  regular  common  meals  of  the  whole 
congregation ;  but  even  in  their  subsequent  form  of  meals 
for  the  poor,  they  still  made  those  who  partook  of  them 
conscious  of  their  Church  membership.  Ascetically  con- 
stituted minds  had  indeed  frequently  taken  offence  at 


CHAP,  n.]       CONGREGATIONAL  RELIEF  OF  THE  POOR.  253 

these  repasts  in  the  churches.  The  Synod  of  Gangra 
(a.d.  360)  still  protected  the  Agapai  against  them.^ 
But  still  more  dangerous  to  the  Agapse  was  the  offence 
taken  at  the  combination  of  the  Lord's  Supper  with  these 
meals.  It  seemed  beneath  the  dignity  of  the  communion, 
that  it  should  be  celebrated  after  the  me'al,  and  the 
disorders  which  occurred  served  to  confirm  this.  Hence 
it  was  at  first  enjoined,  that  the  Lord's  Supper  should 
precede  the  Agapse.  An  exception  was  made  on 
Maunday  Thursday  only,  in  remembrance  of  the  Lord 
having  instituted  the  Sacrament  after  the  Paschal 
Supper.^^  The  Council  of  Trulla  did  away  with  this 
exception  also.  The  strictly  observed  rule,  that  the 
communion  should  be  partaken  of  fasting,  allowed  of  no 
connection  with  the  Agapse,  which  were  held  in  the 
evening.  Next,  the  holding  of  the  Agapse  in  the 
churches  at  all  was  forbidden.  The  Council  of  Laodicea  ^ 
first  passed  the  decree,  "  that  the  so-called  Agapa3  are 
not  to  be  held  in  churches,  and  that  neither  eating  nor 
the  preparation  of  couches  must  take  place  in  the  house 
of  God."  In  the  West  it  was  chiefly  by  Ambrose  and 
Augustine,*^  that  the  abolition  of  the  Agapse  was  carried 
out.  The  Council  of  Trulla  says  quite  briefly :  "  The 
Agapse  in  churches  are  forbidden."  ^*  Thus  was  an 
institution  buried,  whose  existence  is  as  distinctive  of 
the  church  life  of  the  most  ancient  church,  as  its 
destruction  is  a  sign  that  such  a  church  life  no  longer 
existed. 

The  altered  character  of  the  relief  of  the  poor  will 
more  plainly  appear,  if  we  consider  the  manner  in  which 
the  means  for  it  were  now  collected.  Formerly  the 
main  stock  consisted  of  the  regular  gifts  of  members  of 
the  congregation  at  public  worship,  and  especially  of  the 


254        CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [boOK  HI. 

oblations  offered  at  the  celebration  of  the  Lord's  Supper. 
The  church  character  of  the  relief  of  the  poor  lay  just  in 
the  circumstance,  that  it  was  the  congregation  who  at 
their  public  worship  laid  upon  the  altar  the  gifts  destined 
for  the  service  of  their  brethren.  This  was  now  different. 
The  oblation's  dwindled ;  compared  with  the  large  means 
in  other  respects  at  the  Church's  disposal,  they  were 
scarcely  taken  into  account,  and  during  this  period 
entirely  lost  their  original  character  of  means  for  the 
poor.  The  cause  is  here,  too,  to  be  found  in  the 
depression  of  church  life.  Formerly  it  had  been  the 
order  of  Christian  life,  that  every  member  of  the  Church 
came  to  church  on  Sundays,  participated  in  the  celebra- 
tion of  the  Lord's  Supper,  and  regularly  brought  his 
oblation  at  it,  but  now  the  decay  of  church  life  was 
already  plainly  shown  by  irregularity  of  attendance  on 
public  worship.  It  was  no  longer,  as  before,  the  whole 
church  that  assembled  every  Sunday.  Even  such 
preachers  as  Chrysostom  had  to  complain  of  empty 
churches,  especially  if  it  so  happened,  that  races  in  the 
circus,  or  a  spectacle  at  the  theatre,  presented  a  counter 
attraction  to  the  multitude.  Chrysostom  on  one  occasion 
compares  Christians  to  the  Jews,  who  go  up  but  three 
times  a  year  to  worship  in  the  temple.  He  also 
complains,  that  so  many,  when  the  sermon  is  over, 
noisily  crowd  out  of  church  witliout  staying  to  the  Lord's 
Supper.  Even  those  who  partook  of  it  did  not  always 
bring  oblations.  It  was  only  on  high  festivals,  on  days 
of  martyrs  and  in  memory  of  the  dead,  that  abundant 
offerings  were  still  laid  upon  the  altar.^^  This  shows 
that  entirely  different  motives  were  now  operative.  The 
oblations  were  no  longer  the  thank-offerings  of  the 
congregation,  offerings  of  love  for  the  poor,  as  at  first,  but 


OHAP.  II.]       CONGREGATIONAL  KELIEi'  OF  THE  POOR.  255 

gifts  by  which  the  individual  members  of  the  church 
hoped  to  obtain  the  intercession  of  the  martyrs  for 
themselves  -  or  for  the  dead.  Oblations  proper  now 
consisted  only  of  bread  and  wine,  and  on  certain  days  of 
the  natural  products  oil,  milk  and  honey,  used  in  public 
worship  on  other  occasions.  These  thus  inwardly 
shrunken  oblations,  which  had  long  ago  forfeited  the 
character  of  alms,  thus  lost  altogether  about  the  year 
500  their  destination  of  being  for  the  use  of  the  poor. 
They  devolved  as  dues  to  the  clergy,  partly  to  the  bishop, 
partly  to  those  who  read  mass.^® 

There  was,  however,  no  lack  of  gifts  and  presents  to 
the  Church ;  these,  on  the  contrary,  came  in  with  an 
abundance  formerly  unknown.  The  treasure  chamber  of 
many  a  church  was  filled  with  expensive  garments,  gold 
and  silver  vessels,  even  with  coined  money  ;  in  every 
town  were  splendid  ecclesiastical  buildings,  whose  interiors 
glittered  with  jewels  and  ornaments  of  every  kind ;  the 
Church,  which  had  hitherto  been  satisfied  with  having 
what  was  necessary  for  the  moment,  accumulated  from 
donations  and  legacies  a  constantly  increasing  property 
especially  of  estates.  Constantine  began  to  make  the 
Church  rich  in  these,  and  frequently  as  the  finances  of 
the  Empire  were  depressed  under  his  successors,  means 
were  always  found  for  inclining  them  to  make  donations 
to  the  Church.  Eich  commoners  vied  with  the  emperors. 
To  give  or  bequeath  anything  to  the  Church  was  esteemed 
a  specially  good  work,  and  one  sure  to  secure  the  favour 
of  God.  Even  Chrysostom  was  obliged  to  remind  his 
hearers,  that  salvation  was  not  to  be  obtained  by 
presenting  to  the  Church  a  golden  chalice  set  with 
jewels,  and  that  the  Church  is  not  a  storehouse  of  gold 
and  silver  wares,  but    that   she   far   more   needs   souls 


256         CHRISTIAN  CHAEITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [BOOK  III. 

dedicated  to  God.^  With  the  increasing  dissolution  of 
heathenism,  the  Church  also  came  into  the  possession  of 
a  great  part  of  the  property  destined  for  the  temples  and 
the  lieathen  worship.  She  became  in  this  respect  also 
the  heir  of  the  Olympian  deities,  and  many  treasures, 
whicli  had  formerly  adorned  the  temple  of  a  Jupiter  or 
an  Apollo,  now  served  for  the  decoration  of  a  Christian 
altar.  The  large  accumulated  property,  too,  of  many 
collegia  was  also  in  the  course  of  time  transferred  to  her, 
e.g.  that  of  the  collegium  of  the  Dendrophori. 

But  an  ever  flowing  and  abundant  source  of  earthly 
possessions  was  opened  to  the  Church  by  the  legal 
enactment  of  Constantine,  that  testamentary  bequests 
mierht  be  made  in  favour  of  the  Church.  According  to 
Eomish  law,  certain  gods  had  the  rights  of  juristic 
personality,  and  thus  the  capacity  of  being  made  inheritors 
by  testamentary  dispositions ;  nay,  they  were  in  this 
respect  distinguished  above  private  individuals  by  many 
privileges.  These  rights  were  now  transferred  to  the 
Church,  and  were  in  such  wise  taken  advantage  of,  that 
even  a  few  decades  later,  Valentinian  I.  had  to  make  a 
law  to  restrain  the  legacy-hunting  of  the  Church,  That 
there  actually  existed  reasons  for  such  a  law  is  seen  from 
an  expression  of  Jerome,  in  which  he,  who  in  other 
respects  well  understood  the  collection  of  means  for  the 
church,  complains  not  of  the  law,  but  of  the  causes  of 
the  law.^^  Certainly  all  bishops  were  not  so  conscientious 
as  Augustine,  who  disapproved  of  parents  disinheriting 
their  children  by  making  wills  in  favour  of  the  Church 
and  the  poor,  and  refused  to  accept  an  inheritance,  if  the 
relatives  of  the  testator  seemed  to  him  to  be  injured  by 
it,  "  for  the  Church  desires  no  unjust  inheritance." 
Augustine  praises  in  a  sermon  ^^  his  friend  and  fellow- 


CHAP.  II.]       CONGREGATIONAL  EELIEF  OF  THE  TOOR.  257 

Bishop  Aurelius  for  restoring  to  a  widower  of  his  Church, 
who  while  yet  childless  had  bequeathed  his  property  to 
the  Church,  retaining  only  the  usufruct,  the  legacy 
without  his  applying  for  it,  when  children  were  sub- 
sequently born  to  him.  "  Let  him  who  would  make  the 
Church  his  heir  by  disinheriting  his  own  son,  find  some 
one  else  than  Augustine  to  receive  the  inheritance.  I 
hope  to  God  he  may  find  none."  But  however  many 
bishops  might  in  this  respect  think  and  act  as  nobly  as 
Augustine,  the  view  became  increasingly  general,  that  it 
belonged  to  a  man's  care  for  his  soul's  salvation  to  l(3ave 
by  will  a  portion  of  his  goods  to  the  Church.  The  more 
it  was  hoped  that  sins  committed  would  thus  be  covered, 
and  a  favourable  sentence  obtained  from  the  Judge  of  the 
world,  the  more  abundant  were  the  gifts  presented  to  the 
Church.  It  was  decidedly  expected  of  the  clergy,  virgins 
and  married  people  who  had  taken  vows  of  chastity,  of 
monks  and  nuns,  that  if  they  had  not  already  given 
away  their  property  during  their  lifetime,  they  sliould 
leave  it  by  will  to  the  Church.  Salvian  considers  their 
not  doing  so  to  arise  from  covetousness,  and  their  salvation 
to  be  endangered  thereby.  "  If  the  Lord  commanded 
His  disciples  to  go  without  scrip  or  purse,  how  far  are 
those  from  following  His  command,  who  desire  to  possess 
their  property  even  after  death  in  their  relations ;  how 
far  are  they  from  the  piety  which  disinherits  itself  for 
the  sake  of  God,  who  will  not  even  disinherit  others  for 
their  own  sake  !  They  disinherit  themselves  (for  eternity) 
in  order  not  to  disinherit  others."'*  Sajvian  also 
earnestly  exhorts  other  Christians,  not  living  like  clerics 
and  monks  in  a  state  of  special  piety,  fo  remember  the 
Church  and  the  poor  in  their  wills.  If  during  their  lives 
they  have  not  done  many  good  works,  it  the  more  behoves 

R 


258         CintlSTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.        [book  ill. 

them  to  retrieve  the  omission  when  they  leave  the  world, 
so  that  they  may  at  least  have  the  excuse  for  their 
neglect,  that  by  a  last  act  of  piety  they  have  atoned  for 
what  they  had  left  undone.  But  if  during  their  life 
they  have  already  done  good  works,  the  same  advice 
must  be  given ;  for  no  one  does  good  enough,  and  at  the 
moment  when  they  are  about  to  appear  before  the  Judge's 
throne,  they  must  the  more  reconcile  Him  to  themselves.^^ 
Nay,  he  advises  even  those  who  to  the  end  have  passed 
their  lives  in  wickedness,  as  a  last  means  to  give  away 
all  their  property  at  death.  He  will  not  indeed  say  for 
certain,  that  it  will  be  of  any  use,  but  at  all  events  it  is 
better  to  try  something  than  to  do  nothing.^^  In  this 
matter  Salvian  will  allow  of  no  consideration  for  children 
or  relatives.  "  For  in  taking  care  for  one  soul's  salvation, 
we  must  love  ourselves  first  of  all."  "  What  good  does 
a  rich  man  get,  who  makes  his  sons  rich  and  plunges 
himself  into  eternal  damnation  ?  "^^  Certainly  Salvian 
excuses,  but  still  only  excuses,  consideration  for  children ; 
"  since  in  this  case  faith  is  placed  after  blood,  and  the 
claims  of  natural  afTection  conquer  religious  piety."  ^^ 
But  he  sharply  rebukes  those  who  adopt  children  or  leave 
anything  to  strangers.  It  is  in  general  better  that 
children  should  be  poor  in  this  world  than  parents  in  the 
next. 

It  must  be  confessed  that  Salvian  is  one  of  those,  who 
lay  on  the  colours  somewhat  thickly  and  express  them- 
selves strongly.  But  there  can  be  no  doubt  that,  in  his 
urgency  for  wills  in  favour  of  the  Church,  he  represented 
the  tendency  of  the  times.^  The  appreciation  of 
testamentary  lilferality  is  always  a  sign,  and  at  the  same 
time  a  consequence,  of  esteeming  the  surrender  of  earthly 
possessions  in  itself,  and  independently  of  its  intention, 


CHAP.  II.]        CONGREGATIONAL  RELIEF  OF  THE  POOR.  259 

a  ffood  and  meritorious  work.  In  times  when  tlie  life  of 
love  is  vigorous,  as  in  the  first  centuries,  more  is  given 
during  life  and  personally,  for  the  intention  is  personally 
to  help  the  poor.  As  soon,  however,  as  regard  to  the  good 
work  to  be  performed  and  the  reward  to  be  thereby 
obtained  preponderates,  testamentary  giving  preponderates 
also ;  for  the  end  striven  for,  viz.  that  of  gaining  merit 
by  good  works,  may  be  thus  equally,  may  be  thus,  in  a 
certain  sense,  far  more  conveniently  attained,  since  there 
is  no  need  at  all  for  renouncing  anything  during  life. 
To  this  is  added — a  particular  not  to  be  overlooked — an 
after  effect  of  the  views  of  antiquity  in  this  matter  as  in 
some  others.  It  had  been  the  custom  in  Eome  to  think 
of  friends,  of  illustrious  men,  and  above  all  of  the 
emperor  in  wills.  This  was  now  transferred  to  the 
Church.  If  it  had  been  for  a  period  esteemed  high 
treason  in  Rome  to  leave  nothing  to  the  emperor,  it 
was  now  regarded  as  almost  treason  to  the  Church,  and 
even  to  God,  for  a  man  not  to  remember  the  Church  in 
his  will ;  and  as  legacies  formed  an  important  item  in  the 
imperial  revenue,  so  did  they  now  in  that  of  the  Church. 
Less  profitable  were  the  results  obtained  by  the 
Church  by  preaching  the  doctrine  of  tithes.  The  notion 
that  the  Jewish  law  of  tithes  applied  to  Christians  also, 
that  the  tenth  was  the  least  a  Christian  should  give, 
is  now  frequently  met  with.  It  was  evidently  a  view 
now  generally  held.  Eminent  Church  teacliers,  sucli  as 
Chrysostom,  Jerome,  Augustine,  zealously  exhort  to  give 
the  tenth.^^  But  it  was  by  no  means  as  yet  the  general 
practice,  and  still  less  a  settled  enactment.  Many  cer- 
tainly gave  a  tenth  voluntarily,  or  made  the  law  of  tithes 
the  standard  of  their  almsgiving.  Thus,  e.g.,  it  is  with  a 
good  intention  that  Chrysostom  says,  that  God  imposed  a 


260        OHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  hi. 

tenth  on  the  Jews,  but  a  Christian  must  not  stop  at  this ; 
he  must  exceed  the  righteousness  of  the  Pharisees,  and 
give  whatever  he  saves,  but  at  least  a  tenth.  The  tithe 
did  not  become  a  really  settled  law  until,  in  the  newly 
arisen  German  kingdoms,  agrarian  circumstances  were 
more  favourable  to  it  than  in  the  Roman  Empire.  In 
fact  it  was  in  Frankish  synods,  that  the  law  of  tithes  was 
first  decidedly  pronounced.  A  Synod  of  Tours,  in  the  year 
567,  still  stops  at  mere  exhortation;  the  second  synod 
of  Macon,  in  the  year  583,  is  the  first  which  raises  the 
giving  of  the  tenth  to  a  universally  binding  law,  thus 
opening  to  the  Church  a  source  of  revenue,  which  shows 
more  plainly  than  anything  else  how  far  the  once  so 
zealously  preserved  liberty  of  giving  was  departed  from, 
but  which  was  of  eminent  importance  with  respect  to 
the  property  of  the  Church. 

The  Church  was  a  good  steward.  A  large  portion  of 
the  administrative  ability  and  thrifty  spirit  of  the 
Eomans  was  transferred  to  the  churches  of  the  West, 
and  chiefly  to  the  Eomish.  The  management  of  Church 
property  was  strictly  regulated  in  a  series  of  synods, 
care  was  taken  to  keep  it  together  and  to  protect  it 
from  diminution.  Only  the  bishop  could  alienate  Church 
property,  and  he  only  with  the  consent  of  a  council  or 
two  fellow-bishops,  subsequently  of  the  metropolitan.^'^ 
He  must  neither  give  away  anything  nor  dispose  of  it 
by  will,  especially  to  relatives,^^  and  might  exchange 
even  single  appurtenances  only  to  a  small  extent,  and 
when  it  would  bring  some  advantage.  Eelatives  had 
to  make  compensation  for  alienated  Church  property ; 
laymen  who  alienated  it  were  excommunicated.^®  The 
management  lay  exclusively  in  the  hands  of  the  bishop. 
It  now  formed  one  of  the  most  important  of  a  bishop's 


CHAP.  II.]        CONGREGATIONAL  RELIEF  OF  THE  POOR.  261 

duties,  and  M^as  often,  as  the  occasional  complaints  of 
just  the  more  spiritually-minded  bishops  show,  I'elt  to  be 
a  heavy  burden.  How  frequently  are  Gregory  the 
Great's  letters  full  of  the  business  imposed  by  this 
management ;  what  exact  arrangements  does  he  make, 
down  to  the  slightest  details,  concerning  the  administra- 
tion or  letting  of  estates,  the  purchase  and  sale  of  their 
produce !  He  orders  on  one  occasion  that  the  breeding 
of  horses  is  to  be  limited,  because  the  grooms  cost  too 
much,  and  too  little  is  made  by  it,  and  at  the  same  time 
does  not  forget  what  is  to  be  done  with  the  stock  of 
harness  in  hand.  By  a  decree  of  the  Synod  of  Chalcedon,*" 
every  bishop  is,  moreover,  bound  to  appoint  a  steward  for 
the  management  of  Church  property.  Gregory  carries  on 
the  administration  by  a  larger  number  of  defensorcs, 
upon  whom  a  kind  of  oversight  of  the  bishop  is  at  the 
same  time  imposed. 

Under  careful  administration  and  continual  accessions, 
a  considerable  property  was  thus  accumulated.  Already, 
in  the  fifth  century,  the  Church  was  the  greatest  land- 
owner in  the  Empire.  The  privileges  conceded  to  her 
considerably  facilitated  the  management  and  increase  of 
property,  and  induced  many  smaller  landowners  to  take 
refuge  in  her  protection  and  to  transfer  their  estates  to 
the  Church,  that  they  might  then  receive  it  again  as  a 
Precarium.  When  Pope  Damasus  wanted  to  induce  the 
Eomish  town-prsefect  Praitextatus  to  become  a  Clnistian, 
he  replied  ironically :  Make  me  Bishop  of  Eome,  and  I 
will  be  a  Christian  directly.  And  yet  this  Prsetextatus 
was  one  of  the  richest  of  men,  and  had,  besides  his  large 
salaries  from  various  offices,  an  income  of  £150,000  per 
annum  from  his  private  property.  By  this  weniay  judge 
of   the   amount    then   at    the    disposal   of  the    liomish 


262        CIIKISTIAN  CHAlilTY  IN  ANCIENT  CIIUECII.       [book  III. 

bishop.*^  In  the  time  of  Gregory  the  Great,  the  Eomish 
Church  possessed  extensive  landed  property  not  only  in 
Italy  and  Sicily,  but  also  in  Gaul,  nay  in  the  East. 
The  Church  of  Milan  was  also  very  wealthy,  while,  in 
the  East,  that  of  Alexandria  was  eminently  so.  When 
John  the  Almoner  v/as  bishop  there,  he  found  8000 
gold  pieces  in  the  treasury  of  the  Church.  Among  the 
heathen,  to  be  a  bishop  and  to  be  rich  meant  the  same 
thing.  "  He  who  has  gained  a  bishop's  see,"  says 
Ammianus  Marcellinus  *^  derisively,  "  need  take  no  care 
for  the  future,  presents  make  him  rich,  he  drives  about 
proudly  in  expensive  carriages  and  in  raiment  that  is 
magnificent,  and  has  such  extravagant  repasts  as  to  out- 
trump  the  Emperor's,"  But  even  this  heathen  was  obliged 
to  add,  that  there  were  also  bishops,  "  who,  moderate  in 
eating  and  drinking,  and  simple  in  their  dress,  showed 
themselves  to  be  worthy  priests  of  the  Deity." 

It  is  generally  a  paltry  view,  which  places  the  increasing 
wealth  and  growing  power  of  the  Church  solely  in  the 
category  of  its  augmenting  corruption.  It  was  needful 
for  the  Church  to  be  rich  and  powerful,  if  she  was  to  be 
equal  to  the  tasks  then  before  her.  Even  to  assist  the 
numberless  poor  of  the  times,  to  give  some  alleviation 
to  their  unspeakable  misery,  she  required  abundant 
resources.  Slie  could  not  have  contended  with  sucli 
wholesale  poverty  with  the  means  at  her  disposal  during 
the  first  centuries.  Safely  invested  funds  too  were 
required,  for  voluntary  gifts  fail  most  under  those  un- 
favourable financial  circumstances,  which  make  them  the 
most  sorely  needed,  while  the  revenues  derived  by  the 
Church  from  landed  property  were  still  a  resource,  when 
all  other  sources  were  dried  up.  But  this  is  a  point 
whose  fuU  importance  can  only  be  seen    in    connection 


CHAP.  II.]       CONGKEGATIONAL  EELIEF  OF  THE  POOK.  2G3 

with  others.  The  Church  was  now  to  be  the  advocate  of 
the  poor  and  wretched,  even  in  presence  of  tlie  decaying 
State.  But  if  so,  then  it  was  necessary  that  the  bishops 
should  be  respected  and  endowed  with  such  power  and 
honour  as  to  be  imposing  in  the  eyes  of  Ilkistrious  High- 
nesses and  Excellencies,  nay,  of  the  Emperor  himself. 
Even  such  a  man  as  Ambrose  would  scarcely  have  been 
able  to  encounter  the  Emperor  in  the  manner  he  did, 
unless  he  had  been  at  the  same  time  a  prince  of  the 
Church.  If  the  Church  was  to  bear  the  culture  of  the 
ancient  world  safely  through  the  storm  of  the  migration 
of  the  nations,  she  must  herself  become  a  kind  of  State, 
and  her  bishops  powerful  lords,  and  it  was  a  pedagogic 
moment  not  to  be  depreciated,  when  the  bishop  appeared 
before  the  poor  Frank  or  Goth  as  a  kind  of  portrait  of 
Lord  of  heaven  surrounded  with  magnificence,  but  at  the 
same  time  mild  and  liberal,  and  reflecting  the  goodness  of 
God  by  the  abundant  gifts  which  he  dispensed. 

There  might  indeed  be  such  bishoj)s  as  Ammianus 
Marcellinus,  in  the  above-quoted  passage,  has  before  liis 
eyes,  proud  lords  in  magnificent  carriages,  whose  repasts 
out-trumped  imperial  feasts,  but  at  all  events  they 
formed  the  exception.  All  the  great  bishops  of  the  time 
were  fathers  of  the  poor,  and  it  must  in  justice  be  said  of 
the  Church,  which  had  now  become  wealthy,  that  she 
really  used  her  large  resources  as  the  property  of  the 
poor,  and  relieved  countless  multitudes.  Ambrose  was 
justified  in  replying,  with  a  certain  degree  of  pride,  to 
Symmachus,  who,  in  his  petition  to  the  Emperor  Gratian 
for  the  re-erection  of  the  statue  of  Victory  in  the  liouuin 
Senate,  had  pointed  also  to  the  large  revenue  of  tlic 
Church:  "Why  do  not  they  who  appeal  to  us,  as  having 
means,  employ  their  incomes  as  we  do  ?  "     *'  The  Church 


264         CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [bOOK  III. 

possesses  nothing  but  faith.  Her  possessions  are  the 
support  of  the  poor.  Let  tlieui  point  to  the  prisoners 
whom  their  temples  have  ransomed,  the  poor  whom  they 
have  fed,  the  ruined  whom  they  have  assisted.  And 
because  what  the  priests  formerly  profited  by  is  now 
applied  to  the  public  good,  public  calamities  have,  they 
say,  come  upon  us."^^  He  reminds  him,  as  well  he  might, 
that  they  who  became  priests  renounced  their  property, 
for  he  had  himself  done  so.  When  he  became  bishop,  he 
gave  all  that  he  possessed  of  gold  and  silver  to  the  CTiurch 
for  the  benefit  of  the  poor,  retaining  only  an  annuity  for 
his  sister  Marcellina.  When  his  brother  Symmachus 
died,  the  brother  and  sister  gave  his  property  also  to  the 
poor.  Similar  accounts  are  given  of  several  bishops. 
Chrysostom  individually  lived  very  plainly,  and  applied 
all  his  income  to  the  poor,  of  whom  he  regularly  supported 
Woo.**  Augustine,  in  a  sermon,  entreats  that  expensive 
garments  may  not  be  given  him,  for  he  shall  only  sell 
them  and  give  their  price  to  the  poor.  If  any  one 
wishes  him  to  wear  it  himself,  he  must  send  him  such  a 
coat  as  he  could  give  in  his  turn  to  any  poor  brother  who 
has  none.*^  Basil,  Epiphanius  of  Cyprus,  Paiilinus  of 
Nola,  gave  all  their  private  property — nay,  it  was  so  far 
the  rule  as  to  be  expected  of  every  bishop.  After  the 
death  of  Attilus,  the  people  of  Constantinople  demanded 
the  presbyter  Sisinnius  for  bishop  because  he  gave  so 
much  to  the  poor.     In  fact  he  became  bishop.**' 

It  is  true  that  Church  property  was  used  for  other 
purposes  than  the  relief  of  the  poor.  The  requirements 
of  public  worship,  the  magnificent  churches,  their  splendid 
fittings,  the  rich  furniture,  the  pomp  of  divine  service, 
made  claims  upon  a  large  j)ortion.  To  this  was  added 
the   maintenance    of    the  numerous   church  officers,  the 


CHAP,  n.]       CONGREGATIONAL  RELIEF  OF  THE  POOR.  265 

presbyters,  deacons,  and  suL-deacons,  the  cantores,  readers, 
doorkeepers,  the  whole  host  of  lower  officials.  ^lost  of 
these,  it  is  true,  received  but  trifling  salaries,  which 
merely  supplenieHted  the  income  they  already  had 
from  their  property  or  the  labour  of  their  hands. 
Many  clerics  engaged  in  agriculture  or  some  handicraft, 
and  especially  in  trade.  It  was  nothing  uncommon  to 
see  them  sitting  at  stalls,  or  in  apothecaries'  shoj^s,  or  at 
the  weekly  markets.  Occasionally  this  was  even  made 
their  duty  by  synodal  decrees.  For  a  time  they  enjoyed 
the  privilege  of  exemption  from  the  trade  tax,  but  this 
caused  too  heavy  a  deficit  in  the  revenue,  and  the 
privilege  was  withdrawn.  The  demands  upon  the  Church 
treasury  were  nevertheless  considerable  by  reason  of  the 
great  numbers  of  the  clergy.  The  view  was,  however, 
still  adhered  to,  that  the  property  of  the  Church  is  the 
property  of  the  poor.  Canon  25  of  the  Council  of 
Antioch,  341,  e.g.,  determines  concerning  Church  property  : 
The  bishop  has  authority  over  the  property  of  the  Church, 
so  that  he  distributes  it  to  all  the  needy  with  perfect 
conscientiousness  and  in  the  fear  of  God.  It  is,  however, 
permitted  to  him  to  take  what  is  necessary  for  himself 
and  his  guests.  The  bishop  himself  may  only  have  such 
household  furniture,  and  keep  such  a  table  as  a  poor  man. 
He  may  also  only  give  to  his  relations  if  they  are  poor, 
but  then  in  the  same  proportion  as  to  other  poor.'*^  The 
Synod  of  Agde  grounds  the  prohibition  to  alienate  Church 
property  expressly  on  the  fact,  that  it  is  the  property  of 
the  poor.^*^  The  same  view  is  found  in  many  fathers,  and 
that  this  was  not  a  mere  form  of  speech  is  proved  by  the 
fact,  that  no  hesitation  was  felt  at  selling  even  the  sacred 
vessels  to  feed  the  hungry  and  to  ransom  prisoners. 
When  the  Arians  reproached  Ambrose  for  having  done 


266         CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  III. 

this,  he  justified  himself  with  the  words :  "  The  Church 
possesses  gold  not  to  keep  it,  but  in  times  of  distress  to 
help  with  it."*^  And  Augustine  writes  to  his  deputy 
Bonifacius :  "  It  belongs  not  to  us,  but  to  the  poor ;  we 
only  direct  its  administration,  and  lay  claim  to  no 
property."  ^^  Subsequently  the  custom  of  quartering  the 
Church  property  spread  from  Rome  outwards.  One 
quarter  was  for  the  bishop,  one  for  the  rest  of  the  clergy, 
one  for  the  maintenance  of  the  Church  fabric,  and  one  for 
the  poor.  The  motives  for  this  division  are  no  longer 
quite  apparent.  Tliat  the  intention  was  not  to  limit  the 
poor  is  guaranteed  even  by  the  circumstance,  that  Gregory 
the  Great  was  a  chief  promoter  of  this  custom.'^^  Such 
an  intention  would  not  be  in  accordance  with  Gregory's 
character,  who  fretted  for  days  upon  hearing  that  a  man 
had  died  of  starvation  in  Eome,  and  accused  himself  of 
being  his  murderer.^^  The  reason  of  the  arrangement 
may  rather  be  the  desire  to  introduce  a  certain  amount 
of  order  into  the  application  of  Church  property,  an  order 
which  profited  the  poor,  as  assuring  to  them  in  any  case 
a  fourth  of  its  revenues.  The  reservation  was  made,  that 
when  need  required  more  might  be  applied  to  their  use, 
at  least  such  a  reservation  was  acted  on. 

Church  property  then,  as  administered  by  the  bishop 
with  the  help  of  his  steward,  now  formed  the  main  stock 
of  the  means  for  the  poor,  and  consequently  the  relief 
distributed  could  not  fail  to  assume  a  form  different  from 
that  of  the  times,  when  the  regular  gifts  of  the  congrega- 
tion still  funished  the  means.  It  lost  on  this  side  also 
its  Church  character,  and  took  the  form  of  magnificent 
almsgiving  on  the  part  of  the  bishop.  In  this  respect 
his  steward  stood  beside  him  in  the  front  rank.  It  was 
he  who  had  the  control  of  the  receipts  and  expenditure; 


CHAP.  II.]       CONGREGATIONAL  EELIEF  OF  THE  POOR.  267 

and  if  the  deacons  still  helped  as  of  old  in  the  distribution 
of  relief,  they  were  no  longer  as  formerly  the  eyes  and 
hands  of  the  bishop.^  Their  importance  with  respect  to 
the  relief  of  the  poor  could  not  but  diminish,  when  the 
steward  was  inserted  between  them  and  the  bishop,  and 
when,  on  the  other  hand,  a  large  number  of  individuals 
were  at  the  bishop's  disposal  for  the  service  of  the  poor 
in  the  presidents  and  servants  of  the  benevolent  insti- 
tutions. Besides,  a  multitude  of  needy  persons,  who  had 
formerly  been  visited  and  tended  by  the  deacons  in  their 
own  homes,  now  found  shelter  in  the  xenodochia,  the 
hospitals,  the  poorhouses,  while  in  the  case  of  those  who 
did  not  require  such  care,  assistance  was  confined  to 
regular  gifts,  the  dispensation  of  which  was  now  the  task 
not  of  the  deacons,  but  chiefly  of  the  head  manager  of 
the  Church  property,  the  steward.  Ministration  to  the 
poor  in  their  homes  everywhere  fell  into  the  background, 
the  diaconate  lost  in  importance,  and  after  the  latter  half 
of  the  fifth  century  its  gradual  decay  is  clearly  perceived. 
To  begin  with  the  female  diaconate.  In  the  East, 
widows  were  already  in  Constantine's  time  superseded  by 
deaconesses.  The  Council  of  Chalcedon  quite  put  an  end 
to  the  institution  of  widows  by  its  general  prohibition  of 
the  appointment  of  presiding  widows.^  In  Basil  and 
Chrysostom  widows  still  occur,  but  only  as  persons 
supported  by  the  Church.^  With  this  the  institution 
falls  also  in  the  West,  where  widows  had  not  been, 
as  in  the  East,  superseded  by  deaconesses.  Amljroso 
and  Augustine  already  no  longer  know  of  widows  of  the 
former  kind.^^  A  series  of  Gattic  synods  forbids  the 
ordination  or  consecration  of  widows,  and  it  is  character- 
istic, that  the  second  Synod  of  Orleans  gives  as  a  reason 
for   the   prohibition,  the  weakness   of   the   female    sex.''^ 


268         CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH,       [book  ill. 

Hitherto  widows  and  deaconesses  had  belonged  to  the 
clergy,  but  now  such  exalted  views  were  entertained  of 
the  dignity  of  the  clergy  and  of  ordination,  that  it  seemed 
an  unworthy  thing  to  ordain  women.  To  tliis  was  added 
the  increased  estimation  of  the  unmarried  state,  and  on 
this  account  virgin  deaconesses  lasted  longer  in  the  East. 
But  they  too  lost  in  importance  with  respect  to  charity 
and  then  also  in  dignity.  It  is  true  that  we  just  now 
meet  with  several  renowned  deaconesses  of  the  highest 
rank,  as  Macrina,  the  sister  of  Gregory  of  Nyssa,  and 
especially  the  illustrious  Olympias,  the  friend  and  disciple 
of  Chrysostom.  But  their  far-famed  benevolence  was 
still  rather  private  than  official.  Neither  Gregory  of 
Nyssa  nor  Chrysostom  ever  speak  of  any  official  agency 
on  their  part  in  this  respect.  We  have  several  letters  of 
Theodoret  to  deaconesses,  but  in  these  too  we  meet  with  no 
mention  of  such  agency.  In  tlie  East  also  advancing 
monasticism  and  increased  priestly  dignity  were  equally 
unfavourable  to  deaconesses.  Sozomen  ^  tells  of  a  virgin, 
who,  being  qualified  for  the  office  of  deaconess,  renounced 
it  to  devote  herself  to  a  contemplative  life.  The 
deaconesses  had  formerly  access  to  the  altar,  but  this 
was  afterwards  done  away  with  and  their  ordination 
abrogated.*^  Their  agency  was  after  this  confined  to 
external  services  at  worship.  As  female  servants  of  the 
Church  of  a  lower  grade,  there  were  in  Constantinople, 
about  A.D.  1200,  in  the  smaller  Eastern  churches  at  a 
later  date,  still  deaconesses,*"' 

The  deacons  also  occupied  a  different  position.  They 
ceased  to  be  the  vehicks  of  relief  to  the  poor.  Service 
in  the  church  and  at  the  altar  was  now  their  especial 
duty.  It  is  on  this  account  tliat  they  are  so  frequently 
compared  to  the  Levites,  who  served  in  the  temple,  and 


CHAP.  II.]   CONGREGATIONAL  RELIEF  OF  THE  POOR.      2G9 

that  many  appointments  concerning  the  Old  Testament 
Levites,  their  age  and  services,  were  transferred  to  them. 
So  greatly  had  the  consciousness  of  the  earlier  diaconal 
service  vanished,  that  the  Council  of  Trulla  declines  the 
comparison  with  the  seven  men,  on  the  ground  that 
deacons  are  appointed  to  serve  in  the  mysteries  of 
worship,  while  the  Seven  were  appointed  to  serve 
tables.''^ 

We  thus  see  how  the  old  Church  care  of  the  poor  was 
dissolved  on  all  sides.  It  was  no  longer  the  Church 
which,  by  means  of  its  rulers  and  deacons,  exercised 
towards  her  poorer  members,  with  the  resources  offered  in 
her  assemblies,  as  individual  a  case  as  was  possible  ;  it  was 
the  bishop,  who  was  the  great  dispenser  of  alms,  who 
distributed  from  the  property  of  the  Church,  and  what 
was  bestowed  upon  the  Church,  wholesale  alms  to 
the  deserving  and  the  undeserving,  to  members  of 
the  Church  and  to  the  multitudes,  whom  the  common 
misfortunes  •  had  made  beggars.  It  is  true  that  many 
passages  may  be  adduced  from  the  Fathers,  in  which 
they  exhort  to  be  careful  in  the  distribution  of  gifts,  and 
to  inquire  into  their  circumstances.  Basil  ^^  says : 
"  Great  experience  is  required  to  distinguish  between 
those  who  are  really  poor  and  those  who  beg  only  that 
they  may  collect  money.  He  who  gives  to  a  distressed 
and  sick  person  gives  to  God,  and  will  receive  a  reward. 
But  he  who  gives  to  a  vagabond  and  parasite,  throws  his 
money  to  the  dogs,  i.e.  gives  it  to  men  who  deserve 
rather  contempt  for  their  audacity,  than  pity  for  their 
poverty."  Ambrose  *^  speaks  of  the  arts  of  pretended 
beggars,  and  warns  to  take  care  lest  the  portion,  which 
belongs  to  the  needy,  becomes  the  prey  of  rogues.  But 
it  was  very  difficult,  nay  impossible,  to  obey  such  rules, 


270       CHKISTIAN  CIIARIIY  IN  ANCIENT  CHUKCH.        [boOK  III. 

when  unfortunate  creatures  in  danger  of  perishing  with 
hunger  were  pressing  round  in  crowds.  Ambrose  lays 
down  thorouglily  excellent  rules  :  "  They  often  say  they 
are  overwhelmed  with  debts,  try  whether  they  speak  the 
truth ;  they  say  they  have  been  plundered,  try  whether 
this  is  the  case ;  in  one  word,  find  out  whom  you  are 
relieving."  But  he  then  warns  them  again  not  to  be 
inhuman,  and  reminds  them  in  another  passage :  "  Love 
does  not  weigh  deserts,  but  first  of  all  assists  distress."  ^ 
"  We  ought  not  to  be  too  mistrustful.  If  Abraham  had 
been  mistrustful,"  says  Chrysostom,''^  he  would  not  have 
entertained  strangers,  and  Gregory  Nazianzen ''^  comes  to 
the  conclusion,  that  "  it  is  much  better  for  the  sake  of 
those  who  are  deserving,  to  give  to  the  undeserving,  than 
by  fearing  to  give  to  the  undeserving,  to  deprive  the 
deserving  of  the  benefit,"  In  most  cases,  then,  it  must 
actually  have  happened,  that  all  were  relieved  without 
much  distinction.  When  distress  is  as  great  as  it  then 
was,  all  distinction  ceases. 

The  former  Church  care  df  the  poor  was  such  no 
longer.  The  beneficence  of  the  bishop,  distributing  with 
open  hand  to  the  needy,  had,  on  the  contrary,  an 
unmistakeable  likeness  to  what  the  ancient  world  also 
was  acquainted  with,  viz.  the  distributions  of  the 
emperors  and  the  Roman  Nobles.  When  Gregory  the 
Great  had  corn,  oil,  wine,  meat  distributed  every  month, 
when  he  had  carts  full  of  provisions  driving  througli  the 
town  for  the  relief  of  the  poor,^  this  looks  more  like  a 
revival  of  the  old  distribution  of  corn  than  of  the  relief 
of  the  poor  by  the  Christian  Church.  The  Bishop  of 
Eome  had  come  into  the  place  of  the  Emperor,  the  bishops 
into  the  place  of  the  lioman  nobles ;  Christian  caritas 
has    assumed    a    suspicious    similarity    to    the    ancient 


CHAP.  11.]       CONGREGATIONAL  RELIEF  OF  THE  POOR.  271 

liberalitas.  Still  it  was  a  splendid  sight  to  see  a  bishop 
daily  in  the  midst  of  the  hungry  as  the  open-handed 
dispenser  of  alms,  from  whom  every  one  expects  assistance 
and  receives  as  much  as  possible,  the  poor  lioman  driven 
from  house  and  home  by  the  Barbarians,  and  the  German, 
whom  the  mild  breath  of  Christian  love,  now  for  the  first 
time  touches,  awakening  in  his  heart  the  feeling  of  the 
Divine  mercy  therein  reflected ;  a  bishop  with  whom  the 
stranger  finds  an  asylum,  and  the  sick  attendance,  who 
sells  the  Church  furniture,  the  golden  and  silver  vessels 
for  the  Lord's  Supper,  to  ransom  prisoners,  and  leads  in 
his  home  the  life  of  a  poor  man,  to  let  the  poor  find  that 
the  Church  possesses  what  is  hers  only  for  the  poor;  a 
Basil,  attending  himself  upon  the  sick  and  leprous ;  a 
Chrysostom,  in  the  midst  of  Byzantine  luxury  himself 
living  simply  and  modestly,  and  daily  feeding  7000  poor; 
an  Ambrose,  a  proud  Roman,  but  at  the  same  time  a 
humble  Christian,  encountering  the  Emperor  and  con- 
descending to  all  the  poor ;  an  Augustine,  desiring  no  other 
garment  than  such  as  he  can  give  to  any  poor  brother ;  a 
Gregory,  taking  so  deeply  to  heart  the  whole  misery  of 
the  times,  and  yet  fretting  when  an  individual  dies  of 
starvation  in  Eome. 

The  aim,  indeed,  formerly  attained,  that  no  one  suf- 
fered want,  was  no  longer  attainable.  Julian  still  praises 
Christians  for  maintaining,  not  only  their  own  people, 
but  the  heathen  also,  and  for  having  no  beggars  among 
them.  This  was  soon  otherwise ;  the  lioman  people  was 
resolved  into  a  men(Jicant  multitude.  It  is  characteristic, 
that  the  first  mendicancy  laws  were  now  made.  So  great 
a  multitude  of  beggars  had  in  the  reign  of  Valentinian  II. 
congregated  in  Rome,  that  the  Emperor  caused  an  investi- 
gation to  be  made,  and  all  beggars  capable  of  work  to  be 


272         CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  lU. 

expelled  from  the  city.  Beggary  could  no  longer  be  sup- 
pressed, as,  indeed,  it  never  can  be  by  merely  compulsory 
laws ;  hence  the  attempt  was  made  to  organize  it,  this 
age  being,  in  this  respect  also,  the  precursor  of  the  Middle 
Ages.  A  law  was  enacted  under  Theodosius,  that  no  one 
should  in  future  beg  in  the  streets,  until  his  case  had  been 
investigated  as  to  age,  health,  and  circumstances.  If 
incapable  of  work,  he  was  allowed  to  beg  ;  if  capable  of 
work  and  continuing  to  beg,  he  was  deprived  of  liberty.®* 
The  enactments  of  Justinian  were  still  stricter.  If  the 
mendicant  were  a  bondsman,  he  was  to  be  given  back  to 
his  owner ;  if  a  free  man,  work  was  to  be  given  him ;  if 
he  refused  to  accept  it,  he  was  to  be  expelled.  "  These 
commands,"  says  Justinian,  "  are  in  favour  of  the  beggars, 
for  their  purpose  is  to  preserve  them  from  the  crimes  to 
which  idleness  might  seduce  them."*® 

Christianity  has  been  reproached  with  the  fact,  that 
not  till  Christian  times  did  the  laws  against  mendicancy, 
which  were  unknown  to  antiquity,  become  necessary,  the 
Church  having,  it  is  said,  by  her  almsgiving  first  brought 
beggars  to  maturity.  This  verdict  thus  boldly  stated  is 
an  unjust  one.  The  times,  in  which  an  ageing  civilisation 
is  decaying  and  dissolving,  have  ever  been  times  in  which 
mendicancy  increases.  The  age  of  the  Reformation  pre- 
sents a  similar  spectacle,  and  ours  is  making  a  like 
experience.  To  make  Christianity  and  the  Church  respon- 
sible for  this  is  unjust.  The  Church  is  not,  indeed, 
without  fault  in  this  matter.  We  shall  have  to  return 
to  the  fact,  that  she  did  not  succeed  in  renovating  the  old 
world  by  infusing  into  it  the  new  Christian  life.  Herself 
involved  in  an  erroneous  estimation  of  earthly  posses- 
sions, incapable  of  rising  to  a  sound  moral  appreciation 
of  labour,  she  contributed  to  this  dissolution,  and    her 


CHAP,  n.]       CONGREGATIONAL  BELIEF  OF  THE  POOR.  273 

abundant  almsgiving  certainly  attracted  many  a  beggar. 
But  this  shadow  should  not  prevent  our  acknowledging 
the  light  that  exists,  and  admiring  the  splendid  charity  of 
tlie  Church.  What  would  have  become  of  the  lioman 
Empire  without  Christianity  !  What  numbers  the  Church 
assisted,  how  much  misery  it  alleviated,  how  many  tears 
it  dried  !  The  ancient  world  must  die,  Christianity  could 
not  prevent  it ;  but  it  did  what  it  could,  it  ministered 
comfort  and  consolation  to  a  dying  world. 


CHAPTER    III. 

ALMS. 

ScAKCELY  ever  were  alms  so  much  preached,  and  alms- 
giving so  frequently  and  so  urgently  insisted  on,  as  during 
this  period.  Distress  compelled.  The  Church  was  every 
day  besieged  by  hordes  of  poor  and  distressed  of  all  kinds  ; 
the  hungry,  the  naked,  the  sick,  the  houseless,  looked  to 
her  and  expected  help.  The  Ciiurch,  however,  would 
not  have  been  able  to  give  so  much,  if  abundant  dona- 
tions had  not  flowed  in ;  and  largely  as  she  distributed, 
this  would  not  nearly  have  sufficed,  if  an  extensive  private 
benevolence  had  not  been  added.  The  preachers  of  the 
day  must  often  have  had  the  feeling,  which  impelled 
Chrysostom  to  preach  his  famous  sermon  for  the  poor,  in 
which  he  puts  himself  in  the  place  of  an  ambassador 
from  the  poor,  for  whom  he  is  supplicating,  to  the  Church. 
"  I  stand  up  to-day,"  he  begins,  "  to  speak  to  you  for  a 
cause  just,  righteous  and  worthy  of  you.  To  this  I  have 
been  summoned  by  the  beggars  of  this  town.  Summoned 
not  by  words,  not  by  common  resolutions,  but  by  the 
saddest  of  sights.  For,  as  I  was  hurrying  through  the 
market  and  narrow  streets  to  your  assembly,  and  saw 
many  lying  in  the  streets,  who  were  mutilated  in  hands 
or  eyes  or  covered  with  incurable  sores,  I  esteemed  it  the 
harshest  cruelty  not  to  speak  of  them  to  your  love,  espe- 
cially as  the  time  also  invited.    For  it  is  indeed  at  all  times 

274 


CHAP,  m.]  ALMS.  275 

necessary  to  exhort  men  to  mercy  towards  their  brethren, 
since  we  ourselves  need  it  on  the  part  of  our  Lord  and 
Creator,  but  especially  now  during  the  extreme  cold."  ^ 
Quite  similarly  does  Augustine  conclude  a  sermon  on 
alms  with  the  words :  "  Give  then  to  the  poor,  I  entreat, 
I  exhort,  I  enjoin,  I  command  you,  For  I  will  not  con- 
ceal from  you  the  reason  why  I  esteem  it  necessary  to 
preach  this  sermon  to  you.  When  I  go  to  church  and 
when  I  return,  the  poor  call  to  me  and  beg  me  to  speak 
to  you,  that  they  may  receive  something  from  you.  They 
exhort  me  to  speak  to  you,  and  if  they  see  that  they 
receive  nothing  from  you,  they  will  believe  that  I  have 
bestowed  labour  upon  you  in  vain.  They  expect  some- 
thing from  you.  I  give  as  much  as  I  have,  I  give  as 
much  as  I  can,  but  am  I  capable  of  allaying  their  misery  ? 
Since  then  I  am  not  in  a  condition  to  appease  their  need, 
I  am  their  ambassador  to  you.  You  have  heard  tlie 
gospel,  you  have  added  the  word  of  thanksgiving :  thanks 
be  to  God  !  You  have  received  seed,  you  have  returned 
words.  Your  thanksgivings  weary  me ;  I  support  their 
load,  and  tremble  under  it.  But,  my  brethren,  your 
thanksgivings  are  only  leaves,  and  fruit  is  required  of 
you."^  All  the  great  preachers  of  the  day  were  powerful 
preachers  of  almsgiving.  How  often  does  Chrysostom 
say :  "  Every  day,  I  am  told,  you  speak  of  alms.  Yes 
imdoubtedly,  and  I  shall  not  cease  to  speak  of  it.  If  you 
were  as  docile  as  I  could  wish,  I  should  even  then  speak 
of  it,  to  preserve  you  from  relaxing.  If  then  you  stop 
half  way,  whose  fault  is  it  ?  Ought  an  untractable  pupil 
to  complain  of  the  repetitions  of  his  master  V'^  How  well 
did  Basil,  when  Cappadocia  was  visited  by  a  drought,  know 
how  to  incline  all  hearts  to  give  during  the  distress ! 
"  He  opened  by  his  sermons,"  says  Gregory  Nazianzen, 


276         CHRISTIAN  CIIAi;lTY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [booK  ni. 

"  the  granaries  of  the  rich,  and  like  a  second  Joseph, 
provided  the  poor  with  food  and  provisions."  How  well 
did  the  two  Gregories  of  Nyssa  and  Nazianzus  under- 
stand how  to  arouse  a  love  for  the  poor !  We  have  a 
sermon  by  the  latter  on  love  for  the  poor,*  which  is  one 
of  the  most  beautiful  and  touching  ever  delivered.  "  If 
you  would  listen  to  me,  ye  servants  of  Christ,  ye  brethren 
and  fellow-heirs,  let  us,"  he  cries,  "  so  long  as  we  have 
the  time,  minister  to  Christ,  feed  Christ,  clothe  Christ, 
receive  Christ,  honour  Christ ! "  and  then  continues,  that 
we  too  are  daily  in  danger,  and  do  not  know  what  may 
soon  become  of  us, — a  reference  to  the  changes  of  fortune, 
which,  in  those  days,  in  which  so  many  rich  and  prosper- 
ous were  often  suddenly  plunged  into  beggary,  must  have 
made  a  double  impression.  "  He  who  is  in  a  ship  is  near 
to  shipwreck.  Therefore,  so  long  as  thou  art  saih'ng  with 
a  favourable  wind,  hold  out  a  hand  to  those  who  are 
suffering  shipwreck ;  as  long  as  thou  art  healthy  and  rich, 
help  the  unfortunate.  Man  has  nothing  so  divine  as 
beneficence.  Be  a  god  to  the  unfortunate,  by  imitating 
the  mercy  of  God."  Nor  are  the  Latins,  Loo  the  Great, 
of  whom  we  have  a  number  of  collection  sermons,  Am- 
brose, Augustine,  Gregory  the  Great,  behind  the  Greek 
Fathers.  From  every  pulpit  in  every  church  the  people 
were  exhorted  to  compassion  and  to  bountiful  almsgiving 
with  untiring  zeal,  and  with  all  the  means  afforded  by  the 
extremely  rhetorical  style  of  preaching  then  in  use. 

Even  this  is  sufficient  to  show  that  the  ardour  of  first 
love  had  abated.  Almsgiving  was  no  longer  self-evident, 
it  needed  urging.  Nor  was  there  lack  of  complaints 
concerning  the  hard-heartedness  of  many  of  the  rich. 
How  frequently  does  Chrysostom  turn  to  them,  and 
reproach    tlieni    with   their    injustice    in    living    in    the 


CHAP.  III.]  ALMS.  277 

midst  of  every  luxury  and  squandering  their  property 
in  superfluities,  while  so  many  poor  men  cannot  even  be 
sure  of  bread !  "  I  am  much  ashamed,"  he  says,  "  wlien  I 
see  so  many  rich  men  riding  about  with  golden  bridles, 
with  gold-laced  slaves  trailing  behind  them,  and  sleeping 
on  silver  couches,  who,  when  they  are  asked  to  give  to  a 
poor  man,  are  poorer  than  the  very  poor ; "  and  he  tlms 
addresses  the  church  in  Antioch :  "  Through  God's  grace, 
the  number  of  Christians  in  Antioch  amounts,  I  believe, 
to  100,000.  If  each  of  you  would  give  a  loaf  to  the 
poor,  all  would  have  more  than  enough ;  if  each  would 
give  an  obolus,  we  should  have  no  more  poor."  ^  In 
Basil,  Ambrose,  Augustine,  we  meet  with  like  complaints. 
They  are  obliged  to  refute  the  thousand  excuses,  by  which 
hardness  of  heart,  then  as  ever,  sought  to  justify  itself; 
they  have  to  remind  their  hearers  that  it  is  not  right  to 
leave  all  to  the  Church,  and  that  the  officers  of  the  Church 
cannot  give  if  nothing  is  given  them.  If  we  add  to  this 
the  misery  which  these  Fathers  had  daily  before  their 
eyes,  how  painful  it  must  have  been  to  them  not  to  be 
able  to  relieve  it,  and  how  often  they  must  have  been 
moved  by  what  Augustine  on  one  occasion  expresses : 
"  So  many  beg  daily,  so  many  sigh  daily,  so  many  haunt 
us  daily  for  assistance,  that  we  are  obliged  sadly  to  give 
up  the  greater  part,  because  we  have  not  enough  to  give 
to  all,"  *  we  shall  understand  how  it  was  that  just  that 
motive  for  almsgiving  was  now  so  prominently  brought 
forward,  the  motive  of  reward,  which  always  produces  an 
effect  in  churches  in  which  love  has  waxed  cold  and  the 
deeper  Christian  motives  are  no  longer  powerfully  opera- 
tive. This  is  not,  however,  to  say  that  purer  motives 
were  absent.  The  Fathers  of  those  days  also  often  remind, 
that  the  poor  are  our  brethren,  that  they  are  of  the  same 


278         CHRISTIAN  CITAHITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  m. 

nature,  bear  the  same  image  of  God,  that  we  are  walking 
with  them  on  the  same  road  towards  the  same  end.  "  We 
are  all  one  in  the  Lord,"  preaches  Gregory  Nazianzen, 
"  whetlier  rich  or  poor,  bond  or  free,  healthy  or  sick,  and 
we  have  all  one  head,  even  Chrrst.  What  the  members 
are  one  to  another,  each  should  be  to  each  and  all  to  all."^ 
Ambrose  often  dwells  upon  humanity  and  what  we  owe 
our  fellow-men,  and,  of  course,  there  is  not  lacking  a  fre- 
quently recurring  reminder  of  the  gratitude  we  owe  to 
God  and  to  the  Lord,  or  of  the  fact,  that  in  ministering 
to  the  poor  we  do  it  unto  Christ,  that  we  ourselves  must 
all  hope  in  God's  mercy,  and  are  all  beggars  standing 
before  His  gates.^  Still  the  motive  of  reward,  that  thus 
we  lend  to  God,  that  we  make  God  our  debtor,  that 
He  will  repay,  is  brought  far  more  into  the  foreground. 
"  Thou  hast  me  for  a  giver,"  are  the  words  put  into  God's 
mouth  by  Augustine,  "  now  make  me  also  a  debtor. 
Thou  givest  me  little,  I  will  repay  thee  much.  Thou 
givest  me  things  earthly,  I  will  requite  thee  with  things 
heavenly.  I  will  give  thee  thyself,  by  giving  thee  back 
to  Myself."  ^  Countless  times  is  the  thought  expressed, 
that  almsgiving  is  a  safe  investment  of  money  at  good 
interest  with  God  in  heaven.  "  Invest  thy  money  above," 
exclaims  Augustine ;  "  do  not  entrust  it  to  thy  servant, 
but  to  thy  God.  God  would  have  thee  for  His  creditor, 
but  His,  and  not  thy  neighbour's."  One  must  not  say : 
"  I  am  serving  my  children  when  I  lay  by  money."  Tt 
comes  to  pass  that  he  loses  one  of  his  children,  why  does 
he  not  send  his  property  after  his  son  ?  Why  does  he 
keep  it  in  his  purse  and  dismiss  him  from  his  mind  ? 
Pray  give  him  what  you  saved  for  him.  He  is  dead. 
Well,  he  went  first  to  God,  his  portion  belongs  to  the 
poor,  it  belongs  to  Him  to  whom  he  is  gone ;  he  is  gone 


CHAP,  in.]  ALMS.  279 

to  Christ,  it  belongs  to  Christ,  who  says :  "  Inasmuch  as 
ye  did  it  unto  one  of  the  least  of  my  brethren,  ye  did  it 
unto  me."^° 

The  notion  that  alms  have  an  atoning  efficacy,  which 
had  already  made  its  appearance  in  the  former  period,  is 
now  universally  acknowledged,  and  is  expressed  again 
and  again  in  every  variety  of  form  and  expression  as  the 
motive  of  almsgiving,  which  is  predominant  and  prepon- 
derant above  all  others.  To  put  together  only  a  few  of 
the  most  distinctive  utterances  of  the  kind  :  "  Charity,"  it 
is  said  in  a  homily  of  Chrysostom  on  repentance,  is  "  the 
queen  among  the  virtues,  who  quickly  lifts  a  man  into 
the  atmosphere  of  heaven,  and  is  the  best  intercessor. 
Charity  has  strong  wings,  she  cuts  through  the  air,  rises 
above  the  moon,  ascends  beyond  the  shining  sun,  and 
penetrates  to  the  heights  of  heaven.  But  there  too  she 
does  not  remain,  but  penetrates  the  heavens  also,  hastens 
through  the  host  of  angels,  the  choir  of  archangels,  and 
all  the  higher  powers,  and  places  herself  before  the  throne 
of  the  King  Himself."  Learn  this  from  Holy  Scripture, 
which  says :  "  Cornelius,  thy  prayers  and  thine  alms  are 
come  up  before  the  presence  of  God."  This  "  before  the 
presence  of  God  "  means :  Hast  thou  even  many  sins,  but 
hast  alms  for  an  intercessor  ?  fear  not,  for  none  of  the 
higher  powers  opposes  alms,  it  claims  payment,  and  brings 
its  bond  in  its  hands.  For  the  Lord  Himself  says : 
"  What  ye  have  done  to  one  of  the  least  of  My  bretliren, 
ye  have  done  to  Me."  "  With  whatsoever  sins  then  thou 
mayest  be  burdened,  thy  charity  outweighs  them  all."^^ 
There  is  a  .still  stronger  passage  in  the  same  cycle  of 
homilies :  "  To-day  begins  a  trade  in  alms,  for  we  see  the 
prisoners  and  the  poor,  we  see  those  who  wander  about 
the  market,  we  hear  how  they  cry,  and  weep,  and  mourn, 


280        CHRISTIAN  CHAKITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHUECH.        [book  HI. 

we  have  a  wonderful  fair  before  our  eyes."  At  a  fair, 
however,  there  is  but  one  object ;  the  man  of  business  has 
no  other  aim  than  to  buy  goods  cheaply,  and  to  sell  them 
dearly.  Such  a  fair  has  God  opened  to  us :  "  Buy  the 
works  of  righteousness  cheaply,  to  realize  in  the  future  a 
higher  price,  if  indeed  it  is  allowable  to  call  requital 
realization.  Here  righteousness  is  sold  cheap,  sold  for  an 
insignificant  piece  of  bread,  for  a  miserable  garment,  for 
a  cup  of  cold  water.  As  long  as  the  market  lasts  let  us 
buy  alms,  or  rather  let  us  purchase  salvation  through 
alras.'"^  "Give  the  poor  a  piece  of  money,"  it  is  else- 
where said,  "  and  thou  hast  reconciled  the  Judge."  To 
say  the  truth,  the  benevolent  Judge  lets  himself  be  gained 
by  money,  which  he  does  not  take  for  Himself,  but  which 
the  poor  receive.  Eepentance,  without  alms,  is  dead,  and 
shorn  of  its  wings.  Repentance  is  unable  to  fly,  unless 
she  has  the  wings  of  alms.  "  Understand  the  goodness 
of  God,"  it  is  said  in  one  of  Leo  the  Great's  serraons,^^ 
"and  the  arrangement  of  His  love.  God  has  therefore 
willed  thy  superfluity,  that  by  means  of  thee  another  may 
not  starve,  and  that  by  the  benefactions  of  thy  work  of 
love  He  may  deliver  the  poor  from  distress  and  affliction, 
and  thee  from  the  multitude  of  thy  sins ;"  and  elsewhere  : 
"  The  food  of  the  needy  is  the  purchase-money  of  the 
kingdom  of  heaven."  '^  "  Mercy,"  continues  Ambrose,  "  is 
a  source  of  salvation  for  those  for  whom  covetousness  has 
kindled  the  flame  of  death,  that  they,  who  have  kindled 
the  flames  by  sinning,  may  extinguish  them  by  alms- 
giving. Let  him  buy  innocence  who  formerly  bought 
sin."^^  Still  more  plainly  is  it  said  in  another  place: 
"  Thou  hast  money,  buy  off  thy  sins.  God  is  not  venal, 
but  thou  art  venal;  ransom  thyself  with  thy  works, 
ransom  thyself  w^t,h  thy  money.      Money  is  a  trifle,  but 


CHAP,  in.]  ALMS.  281 

mercy  is  precious."^'  Augustine,  too,  carries  out  the 
thought,  that  alms  give  wiugs  to  prayer,  and  that  by  ahns 
sin  is  expiated :  "  The  sacrifice  of  the  Christian  is  the 
alms  bestowed  upon  the  poor.  Thereby  God  becomes 
indulgent  towards  sinners.  If  God  is  not  indulgent  to 
sinners,  who  is  not  guilty  ?  Men  are  cleansed  by  alms 
from  those  sins  and  transgressions,  without  which  life 
cannot  be  passed  here  below." ^^  "Nothing  is  bought  for 
a  lower  price  than  the  kingdom  of  heaven,"  preaches 
Gregory  the  Great ;  "  hast  thou  no  cup  of  cold  water  to 
give  to  the  needy  ?  the  goodwill  will  suffice,  for  before  God 
no  hand  is  empty,  if  the  heart  is  filled  with  goodwill."  ^^ 
But  most  largely,  I  might  say  in  the  most  wholesale  manner, 
does  the  thought,  that  alms  earn  merit,  appear  in  Salvian. 
It  must  not  be  thought,  he  says,  that  only  the  wicked 
ought  to  give  alms,  for  the  purpose  of  expiating  their  sins. 
The  good  must  do  it  too.  For  they  owe  much  to  God 
for  the  goodness  which  they  have  experienced,  and  even 
they  are  not  sure  of  their  salvation.  Therefore  they  also 
do  well,  to  give  away  as  much  as  possible  of  their  earthly 
goods.  "  Let  it  be  granted,  that  they  have  no  punishment 
to  fear,  can  we  then  hope  for  reward  without  merit  ? 
Hence,  if  we  do  not  sacrifice  our  wealth  to  redeem  us  from 
sin,  let  us  devote  it  to  purchase  our  salvation ;  if  we  do 
not  give,  that  we  may  not  be  condemned,  let  us  at  least 
give,  that  we  may  be  rewarded.  If  there  is  no  evil  in  the 
past,  for  which  we  have  to  atone,  there  are  still  eternal 
possessions,  which  we  have  to  procure ;  if  we  have  no 
punishment  to  fear,  we  have  the  kingdom  of  heaven  to 
obtain ;  if  the  saints  have  nothing  from  which  to  redeem 
themselves,  they  have  something  to  purchase.  The 
bargain  is  a  safe  one,  and  there  is  no  loss  to  fear,  for  God 
is  a  faithful  requiter."^* 


282        CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  ni. 

This  may  suffice  to  afford  a  general  impression  of  the 
manner  in  which  alms  were  then  preached  about,  and 
almsgiving  inculcated.  The  passages  quoted  are,  it  must 
be  confessed,  after  the  fashion  of  the  times,  highly- 
rhetorical.  What  is  said  of  redeeming  from  sin,  and 
purchasing  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  must  not  be  taken  too 
literally,  although  (as  we  shall  afterwards  have  occasion 
to  show)  they  may  frequently  have  been  so  under- 
stood by  the  hearers.  But  they  are  certainly  some- 
thing more  than  only  a  rhetorical  paraphrase  of  the  New 
Testament  thoughts,  that  God  rewards  beneficence,  and 
that  they  wlio  exercise  mercy  shall  find  mercy.  These 
passages  are  certainly  based  on  definite  doctrines  and 
definite  ethical  views,  doctrines  and  views  which,  clearly 
and  sharply  impressed,  especially  by  the  Latin  Fathers 
Augustine  and  Gregory  the  Great,  were  handed  down 
to  the  Middle  Ages,  and  became  the  governing  principles 
of  Christian  life  during  that  period. 

We  must  remember,  that  the  connection  between  faith 
and  good  works  was  early  lost  sight  of  in  the  ancient 
Catholic  Church.  There  is  a  hiatus  between  faith  and 
morality.  The  latter  is  not  the  proof  of  faith,  does  not 
grow  out  of  it  as  a  necessary  consequence,  but  stands  as 
second  with  it.  Even  Augustine  did  not  rediscover 
this  connection.  In  his  writings  also  faith  and  love  are 
separated ;  faith  does  not  as  such  work  by  love,  but  love 
.is  added  to  faith.  There  is  a  faith  without  love,  without 
hope,  without  good  works.  Hence  Augustine's  doctrine 
of  justification  by  faith  presents  a  very  different  appear- 
ance from  that  of  the  reformers.  We  are  justified  by 
faith,  "because  faith  works  by  love.  Hence  a  merit  is 
awarded  to  love  even  by  Augustine,  though  he  regards 
this  merit  as  an  outflow  of  grace ;  and  here  is  the  root  of 


CHAP,  iil]  alms.  283 

the  oft-recurring  maxim, — found  in  Augustine  also, — 
"That  alms  have  power  to  extinguish  and  expiate  sin."^*' 

It  is  true  that  he  very  strongly  insists,  that  alms  are 
of  no  avail  without  amendment  of  life.  He  decidedly 
rejects  the  then  widely  diffused  doctrine,  that  in  case  a 
man  only  believes  what  the  Church  teaches,  and  does  not 
separate  from  the  Church,  alms  will  help  to  save  him, 
even  though  as  by  fire.  First  of  all,  he  says,  must  the 
life  be  changed  for  the  better.  A  charter  to  sin  cannot 
be  purchased  by  alms.  All  sins  are  not  of  such  a  kind 
as  to  be  expiated  by  alms ;  but  when  a  man  continues  in 
the  faith  and  amends  his  life,  then  alms  are  the  means  of 
obtaining  forgiveness  for  daily  light  sins.  Yor  Augustine 
distinguishes  three  classes  of  sins — very  heavy,  heavy, 
and  light.  The  means  of  obtaining  forgiveness  for  the 
first  is  public  penance  in  the  Church  ;  for  the  second, 
brotherly  correction ;  for  the  last,  prayer  with  alms.^^ 
Among  these  slight  sins  he  reckons  the  sins  of  weakness, 
by  which  the  Christian  is  affected  even  after  baptism,  the 
daily  sins  which  none  can  live  without,  such,  for  example,  he 
says,  as  speaking  a  harsh  word  to  a  neighbour,  as  laughing 
immoderately.  Even  the  use  of  the  allowable  involves  such 
light  sins.  They  must  not,  however,  be  lightly  regarded. 
They  are  to  be  feared  not  for  their  greatness,  but  for  their 
numbers.  It  is  their  number  that  ruins  men  ;  just  as  a 
grain  of  corn  is  in  itself  small,  but  if  too  many  grains  are 
poured  into  a  ship,  the  ship  is  wrecked.  These  sins  are 
purged  away  by  alms,  only  care  must  be  taken  to  keep 
from  committing  those  sins  which  separate  from  the  Com- 
munion and  from  the  Church,  such  as  murder,  adultery, 
witchcraft,  idolatry.     Against  these  alms  are  of  no  avail.^^ 

We  see  that  in  Augustine  the  maxim,  that  alms  have 
atoning  efficacy,  is  still  surrounded  with  many  precautions. 


284        CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  Ul. 

They  have  only  such  efficacy  for  those  who  amend  their 
lives,  and  keep  themselves  from  heavy  sins,  and  for  them 
only  when  they  are  actual  manifestations  of  love ;  lastly, 
their  effect  is  limited  to  the  third  kind  of  sins — the  light, 
daily,  and  inevitable.  It  lay,  however,  in  the  nature  of 
the  case,  that  these  precautions  should  not  endure,  not 
even  in  theory,  to  say  nothing  of  practice.  Augustine's 
threefold  division  of  sins  universally  gave  way  to  a  two- 
fold division  into  deadly  and  venial  sins,  and  the  atoning 
power  of  alms  was  consequently  extended  to  the  whole 
sphere  of  sin — the  very  heavy,  such  as  idolatry,  murder, 
adultery,  and  those  which  separate  from  the  Church, 
alone  excepted.  Cyprian  had  already  placed  alms 
beside  baptism  as  a  means  for  atoning  for  sins  committed 
after  Baptism,  and  this  thought  comes  forth  far  more 
strongly  in  Ambrose  :^^  "  Alms  are  then  to  a  certain  extent 
a  second  bath  of  the  soul,  so  that,  if  any  one  has,  after 
baptism,  failed  through  human  weakness,  there  still  remains 
to  him  the  means  of  purging  himself  by  alms,  as  the 
Lord  said :  '  Give  alms,  and  lo,  all  things  are  clean  unto 
you.'  Nay,  reserving  faith,  I  might  say  that  alms  afford 
still  more  forgiveness  than  baptism.  For  baptism  is 
administered  once,  and  promises  forgiveness  once,  but 
alms  bring  forgiveness  as  often  as  they  are  given.  These 
two  then  are  the  sources  of  mercy,  which  give  life  and 
forgive  sins.  He  who  avails  himself  of  both  is  endowed 
with  the  honour  of  the  heavenly  kingdom.  But  he  who, 
having  stained  the  living  source  (baptisni)  by  sins,  betakes 
himself  to  the  stream  of  charity,  will  also  obtain  mercy." 
It  is  true  that  Ambrose  speaks  only  of  sins  of  weak- 
ness. Alms  alone  are  not  sufficient  to  expiate  deadly 
sins.  For  this  Church  penance  is  needed.  But  even 
here  alms  play  a    great   part.     Consider,  that    Cyprian 


CHAP,  m.]'  ALMS.  285 

already  reckons  alms  among  the  proofs  of  the  earnestness 
of  repentance,  that  he  counsels  those  who  had  fallen  away 
in  persecutions  to  be  zealous  in  almsgiving.  Alms  are 
among  the  deeds  by  which  a  sinner  makes  satisfaction  for 
his  sins.  In  Gregory  the  Great,  we  find  this  doctrine  in 
as  developed  a  state  as  that  in  which  it  was  held  in  the 
Middle  Ages.  The  fundamental  notion  is,  that  God, 
•while  He  remits  guilt,  does  not  remit  punishment.  This 
has  to  be  endured  by  man,  and  hence  repentance  must 
include  the  satisfaction  of  a  work,  in  which  man  inflicts 
punishment  upon  himself.  He  who  has  done  what  is 
not  allowed,  must  deny  himself  what  is  allowed,  by  way 
of  satisfaction ;  he  who  has  sinned  must  make  up  for 
it  by  good  works.^*  Three  kinds  of  works,  however,  are 
now  everywhere  deemed  good  :  praying,  fasting,  and  alms- 
giving, and  of  these  the  latter  is  esteemed  the  best  and 
most  efficacious.  "  Fasting  is  good,  but  almsgiving  is 
better.  If  any  one  can  do  both,  both  are  well ;  but  if  he 
cannot  do  both,  almsgiving  is  the  better.  When  it  is  not 
possible  to  fast,  almsgiving  is  sufficient.  Fasting  with 
almsgiving  is  doubly  good."^^  Thus  alms  are  inserted,  as 
an  important  item,  in  the  plan  of  salvation.  It  is  they 
that  expiate  venial  sins,  it  is  they  that,  to  use  a  favourite 
expression,  give  wings  to  repentance.  All  this — I  repeat 
it — under  the  presupposition  of  sincere  repentance  of 
heart,  of  which  alms  alone  are  said  to  be  the  expres- 
sion. Frequently  do  the  teachers  of  the  Church  bring 
this  forward,  and  often  do  they  recall  it  to  their  hearers' 
minds,  that  not  the  external  work,  but  the  loving  dis- 
position proved  thereby,  is  the  main  point.  Very  beauti- 
fully says  Gregory  the  Great,  in  a  collection  sermon : 
"Although  in  this  work  all  the  gifts  are  not  equal, 
BtiU  the  love  must  be  equal.     For  the  liberality  of  the 


286        CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  in- 

faithful  is  not  estimated  according  to  the  largeness  of 
the  gift,  but  according  to  the  amount  of  benevolent  love. 
Let  the  gift  of  the  wealtliy  be  more  abundant,  but  let  not 
the  poor  be  behind  him  in  love.  For  though  a  larger 
harvest  is  hoped  for  from  more  abundant  sowing,  yet  rich 
fruit  of  righteousness  may  shoot  forth  from  scanty  seed;"^ 
and  in  another  place  :  "  Property  which  is  unequally 
distributed,  may  afford  equal  merit,  if,  whatever  the  extent 
of  the  gift,  the  love  is  none  the  less."^  Augustine  still 
more  frequently  insists,  that  by  alms  he  means  not  only 
the  gifts  bestowed  upon  the  poor,  but  brotherly  love, 
especially  the  forbearing  love  which  forgives  a  brother.^ 
Ambrose  reminds  that  it  is  not  alms  given  from  ambition 
that  atone  for  sin,  but  those  whose  expenses  are  provided 
for  by  faith.^'  In  Matt.  xxv.  Christ  means  that  those 
only,  who  give  to  hungering  Christians  as  such,  give  to 
Christ  Himself;  and  these  are  they  who  do  not  do  what 
Christ  disapproves,  says  Augustine,  and  delights  in  carry- 
ing out  the  thought,  that  we  must  first  give  to  ourselves 
the  bread  of  conversion  before  -vye  give  bread  to  others. 
Else  alms  are  of  no  avail.  The  Lord  has  regard  to  the  dis- 
position with  which  we  give.^  To  think  that  we  may  sin 
because  we  give  alms,  that  while  paying  for  our  faults 
we  may  commit  new  ones,  is,  according  to  Gregory  the 
Great,  "  to  give  ourselves  to  the  devil  while  giving  our 
property  to  God."^^ 

But  what  could  all  these  reminders  avail  with  a 
generation  only  too  much  inclined  to  release  themselves 
from  the  moral  demands  of  Christianity  by  external 
works,  to  regard  Christianity  in  general  more  as  an  insti- 
tution for  a  magical  kind  of  atonement,  than  as  a  power  of 
moral  renovation  ?  In  effect,  countless  multitudes  sought 
in  the  largest  possible  almsgiving,  the  safest    means  of 


CHAP,  m.]  ALMS.  287 

atoning  for  their  sins  and  rendering  God  propitions  to 
them,  and  we  need  only  read  Salvian  or  the  pseudo- 
Augustinian  sermons  of  Caesar  of  Arelate,  to  be  convinced 
that  the  Church  was  a  participator  in  their  error.  It  is 
there  said  again  and  again  :  This  or  that  is  sin,  but  instead 
of  then  insisting  on  a  moral  change,  there  follows  imme- 
diately :  But  alms  atone  for  sin.  How  much  had  not  the 
Church  to  overlook  and  actually  did  overlook,  how  lax 
had  discipline  become  !  Alms  are  said  to  afford  a  remedy 
for  all,  for  "  as  water  quenches  fire,  so  do  alms  sin ;"  such 
was  the  maxim  now  preached  in  countless  instances. 
Alms  had  totally  changed  their  character.  They  were  no 
longer  a  moral,  but  a  religious  duty  ;  men  no  longer  gave 
with  regard  to  their  neighbours,  to  serve  and  to  help  them 
in  love,  but  with  regard  to  themselves,  to  exercise  an 
influence  upon  their  own  relation  to  God,  to  gain  a  reward 
for  themselves.  "  Certainly  every  one  of  us  does  himself 
and  his  own  soul  the  greatest  benefit,  whenever  he 
relieves  the  distress  of  others,"  preaches  already  Leo  the 
Great ;  ^^  and  this  motive  of  benefiting  oneself  and  one's 
family  was  ever  after  more  and  more  strongly  brought 
forward  in  place  of  the  self-denying,  self-sacri (icing  love, 
which  seeketh  not  her  own. 

Nothing  more  effectively  promoted  this  propensity  than 
the  thought,  that  the  sin-atoning  power  of  alms  reaches 
also  to  the  other  world.  It  maj  be  said,  that  the  doctrine 
of  purgatory,  and  of  the  influence  which  almsgiving 
exercises  even  upon  souls  in  purgatory,  determined  more 
than  anything  else  the  charity  of  the  entire  medi;cval 
period.  This  doctrine  was  now  already  developed,  its 
outlines  were  complete  in  Gregory  the  Great,  and  it  was 
thus  passed  on  to  the  Middle  Ages. 

We  have  in  the  first  period  already  noticed  the  begin- 


288        CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  m. 

nings  of  this  doctrine.  As  early  as  Tertullian's  day,  obla- 
tions were  offered  for  the  departed  on  the  anniversary  of 
their  death.  The  intention  then  evidently  was  to  obtain 
for  them  the  intercessions  of  tlie  Church,  any  merit  to  be 
applied  to  the  deceased  was  not  as  yet  thought  of.  In 
Cyprian,  however,  the  stress  is  no  longer  laid  upon  the 
intercession,  but  upon  the  sacrifice  offered  in  behalf  of  the 
departed,  and  it  is  no  longer  the  oblation,  but  the  celebra- 
tion of  the  Lord's  Supper,  the  offering  of  the  mass,  which 
is  regarded  as  such  a  sacrifice.  We  have  in  truth  already 
the  mass  for  souls,  the  only  difference  being,  that  this  is 
not  yet  severed  from  the  offering  of  the  Church.  It  now 
consequently  becomes  tlie  general  custom,  to  offer  for  tlie 
departed,  and  the  persuasion  is  generally  entertained,  that 
this  offering  is  to  their  advantage.  "  It  is  not  to  be 
doubted,"  it  is  said  in  one  of  Augustine's  sermons,^^  "  that 
the  departed  are  assisted  by  the  prayers  of  the  Holy 
Church,  by  the  saving  sacrifice  and  by  the  alms,  which 
are  offered  for  their  souls,  that  the  Lord  deals  more 
mercifully  with  them  than  their  sins  have  deserved." 
Still  more  amply  does  he  explain  this  in  the  EncliiricUon  :^ 
"It  cannot  be  denied,  that  the  souls  of  the  departed  find 
alleviation  through  the  piety  of  survivors,  when  the 
sacrifice  of  the  Mediator  is  offered,  or  when  alms  are 
given  in  the  church  for  them."  "  But  certainly,"  adds 
Augustine,  "  it  only  profits,  those,  who  have  in  their  lives 
deserved  that  it  should  do  so."  He  distinguishes  in  this 
respect  three  kinds  of  persons.  There  are  those  who  do  not 
need  it.  For  them  it  is  a  sacrifice  of  thanksgiving.  There 
are  those  not  entirely  wicked.  For  these  it  is  an  atoning 
sacrifice.  There  are  those  quite  wicked.  Then  it  is  at 
least  a  means  of  consolation  for  the  survivors.  But  even 
in  the  last  case  Augustine  still  admits,  that  a  mitigation  of 


CHAP,  ni.]  ALMS.  289 

their  do.om  may  be  hoped  for.  Hence  it  is  in  any  case, 
as  Augustine  says  in  a  work  devoted  to  the  subject  {On 
Care  for  the  Dead),  a  universal  duty  to  offer  the  sacrifice 
for  every  departed  soul,  since  one  cannot  know  what  is 
appointed  to  any  individual. 

These  passages  from  Augustine  already  show,  that  alms 
were  combined  with  the  sacrifice  offered  for  the  dead. 
Alms  were  given  in  the  Church,  when,  soon  after  a  death, 
or  on  the  anniversary  of  a  death,  the  sacrifice  was  offered ; 
alms  were  also  given  at  funerals  and  at  graves,  in  the 
hope  that  their  merit  might  be  of  advantage  to  the 
deceased.^  Such  a  custom  was  the  more  easily  formed, 
inasmuch  as  it  was  connected  with  an  ancient  custom, 
indeed  was  only  an  ancient  custom  remodelled.  Scarcely 
anywhere  can  we  so  well  trace  the  continuation  and 
transformation  of  ancient  in  Christian  customs,  as  in 
funerals  and  the  solemnities  connected  with  them,  be- 
cause it  is  just  here  that  epitaphs  afford  us  a  glimpse  of 
prevailing  customs.  That  just  in  this  point  ancient 
customs  were  retained  with  special  pertinacity,  need  not 
surprise  us,  because  the  ancient  world  was  distinguished 
by  great  reverence  for  the  dead.  How  highly  was  the 
sacredness  of  the  grave  esteemed  among  the  Romans, 
with  what  attention  was  a  fitting  funeral  prepared,  and 
how  much  was  expended  in  permanently  honouring  the 
dead  and  their  memory  !  All  this  was  the  more  faith- 
fully preserved,  inasmuch  as  it  now  obtained  a  fresh  and 
firmer  support  through  the  doctrine  of  the  resurrection. 
To  Christians  the  grave  must  have  become  still  more  sacred, 
since  they  believed,  that  he  who  was  now  laid  in  the  grave 
would  not  remain  there,  but  rise  again.  The  Christian 
epitaphs  also  furnish  proofs,  that  in  many  respects  the 
ancient  custom  passed  over  into  the   Christian   custom. 

T 


290        CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  in. 

Thus  it  was  the  custom  among  the  Eomans,  to  forbid 
under  penalties  the  subsequent  opening  of  the  grave  ;  and 
we  read  upon  many  heathen  graves,  that  whoever  presumes 
to  open  this  grave  is  to  pay  such  or  such  a  fine  to  the 
Romish  exchequer,  the  Vestal  Virgins,  or  whatever  other 
place  is  stated  as  authorized  to  receive  such  fines.  Simi- 
larly do  we  read  also  upon  a  Christian  grave  :  Whoever 
shall  open  this  sarcophagus  after  my  interment,  shall  pay 
to  the  church  at  Salona  fifty  pounds  silver.^®  Here  is  the 
same  infliction  of  a  fine,  only  the  receiver  is  now  designated 
as  the  Church.  Threats  are  also  frequently  read.  Who- 
ever disturbs  the  grave  is  said  to  incur  punishment  by 
the  infernal  gods.  Upon  Christian  graves  it  is  said  :  He 
shall  have  his  reward  with  Judas,  with  Gehazi,  M'ith 
Dathan  and  Abiram,  or  also,  let  him  be  Anatheraa.^^ 

It  is  especially  significant,  that,  as  we  saw  above, 
legacies  and  endowments  occur  in  remembrance  of  the 
departed.  Money  is  bequeathed,  that  the  grave  of  the 
deceased  may  on  his  birthday  be  decorated  with  roses 
and  violets,  that  lights  may  be  lit  and  a  repast  held  at 
his  grave,  or  that  appointed  gifts  of  bread  and  wine,  or  a 
sum  of  money,  may  be  distributed  at  his  grave  in  celebra- 
tion of  his  birthday  to  the  members  of  the  collegium  to 
which  he  belonged,  or  to  his  fellow-townsmen.  All  this 
was  "  in  remembrance,"  in  memoriam,  of  the  deceased. 
Some  heathen  memorials  so  resemble  the  Christian 
memorials  of  the  Middle  Ages,  that  they  might  easily  be 
mistaken  for  them,  but  for  the  certainly  important 
difference,  that  they  are  never  benevolent  endowments, 
but  minister  solely  to  vanity,  or,  at  all  events,  are  only 
intended  to  honour  the  memory  of  the  departed.  The 
particular  in  which  we  notice  the  transformation  effected 
in   this  custom  by  Christianity  is,  that  these  memorials 


^ 


CHAF.  in.]  ALMS.  291 

now  became  distributions  of  alms  to  the  poor.  Chry- 
sostom  already  speaks  of  it  as  an  ancient  custom,  to  keep 
up  the  remembrance  of  a  deceased  wife,  husband,  or  child, 
by  inviting  the  poor  at  the  interment,  or  on  the  anni- 
versary of  the  death,  and  giving  them  food  and  drink. 
Subsequently  feasts  held  at  graves  became  a  nuisance  to 
the  Church,  a  scandal  to  all  earnestly-minded  Christians. 
At  the  graves  of  relatives,  at  the  graves  of  martyrs, 
luxurious  banquetings  were  held  on  their  anniversaries. 
Augustine  had  often  to  contend  with  this  obnoxious 
custom.  It  was,  however,  too  firmly  rooted  to  be  extir- 
pated, and  hence  the  efforts  of  the  Church  were  directed 
so  to  change  it,  that  the  repasts  and  presents  for  friends 
and  relatives  should  be  replaced  by  the  sacrifice  of  the 
mass,  with  the  oblation  and  alms  for  the  poor.  Thus 
arose  the  Christian  memorials,  endowments  for  masses  for 
the  dead,  and  distributions  of  alms  on  the  anniversaries 
of  deaths.  For  it  was  part  of  the  transformation  of  the 
heathen  custom,  that  the  birthday  hitherto  celebrated,  was 
exchanged  for  the  day  of  death.^ 

This  development  reaches  its  maturity  in  the  doctrine 
of  purgatory.  The  distinction  between  heavier  and 
slighter  sins  is  here  again  at  the  foundation.  Gregory  ^^ 
adduces  especially  the  passage  of  St.  Paul,  1  Cor.  iii.  1 1 
sqq.  The  apostle  does  not  say,  that  every  one  may  be 
saved,  who  builds  upon  the  one  foundation,  instead  of  gold 
and  silver,  iron,  brass,  lead,  i.e.  great  and  heavy  sins,  not 
to  be  expiated  in  another  world,  but  he  who  builds  there- 
upon wood,  hay,  stubble,  i.e.  light  and  trifling  sins,  which 
fire  easily  consumes.  These  are  sins  such  as  those  which 
Gregory  adduces  by  way  of  example,  frequent  and  useless 
talk,  immoderate  laughter,  or  a  sin  in  the  management  of 
property,  which  can  hardly  be  carried  on  without  sin  by 


292        CHKISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  III. 

those  who  know  how  sin  must  be  avoided.  All  this 
does  not  plunge  into  perdition,  but  it  burdens  the 
soul  even  after  death,  if  it  is  not  pardoned  during  life. 
Such  a  man  therefore  goes  before  the  judgment  into  a 
purgatorial  fire,  in  which  sins  are  burned  like  hay  and 
stubble.  It  is  true  that  Gregory  takes  for  granted,  that 
the  man,  while  in  this  world,  merited  purification  through 
his  good  works,  or  he  will  never  obtain  it  in  the  next. 
Only  under  this  condition,  but  then  certainly,  will  the 
sacrifices  and  good  works  performed  for  him  here  on  earth 
by  others  profit  him.*"  Gregory's  dialogues  are  full  of 
histories  to  prove  this.  He  tells  of  souls  who  come  into 
the  fire  burdened  with  slight  sins,  who  then  themselves 
pray  that  the  sacrifice  of  the  mass  may  be  offered  for 
them,  and  as  soon  as  this  is  done  are  released.  It  may 
suffice  to  give  here  but  one,  which  is  of  interest  because 
it  involves  the  commencement  of  a  mediaeval  custom 
which  became  very  productive  in  respect  of  alms.  A 
monk  of  the  name  of  Justus,  who  had  applied  himself  to 
the  study  of  medicine  in  Gregory's  monastery,  had  secretly 
been  in  possession  of  three  gold  pieces.  When  this  was, 
shortly  before  his  death,  discovered,  Gregory  ordered  that 
none  of  the  brethreai  should  resort  to  him,  and  afterwards 
caused  his  corpse  to  be  buried  in  a  dung-heap.  The  three 
gold  pieces  were  thrown  after  him,  the  brethren  exclaim- 
ing in  chorus,  "  Thy  money  be  thy  ruin  !"  Thirty  days 
after  his  death,  Gregory  had  compassion  upon  the  monk 
who  had  been  thus  punished.  He  called  Pretiosus,  the 
prior  of  the  monastery,  and  said  to  him,  "  For  a  long  time 
has  the  departed  brother  been  tormented  in  the  fire.  We 
must  now  show  our  love  to  him,  and  help  him  as  much 
as  possible  to  be  released.  Go  then  and  order  the  sacred 
sacrifice  of   the  mass  to    be  offered   for  him   for  thirty 


CHAP.  III.]  ALMS.  293 

successive  days  from  to-day,  so  that  there  may  not 
be  one  on  which  the  Holy  Eucharist  is  not  offered  for 
him."  On  the  thirtieth  day,  then,  Justus  was  actually 
released  from  the  fire,  and  testified  the  same  to  his 
brethren  by  appearing  to  them.^^  Accordingly,  it  became 
the  custom,  first  of  all  in  Benedictine  monasteries,  to  read 
mass  thirty  days  for  a  departed  brother,  during  which 
period  his  portion  was  distributed  to  the  poor  ;  and  this  is 
the  origin  of  the  custom,  observed  throughout  the  wliole 
mediaeval  period,  of  having  masses  read  and  alms  dis- 
tributed for  the  soul  of  any  one  departed  in  the  so-called 
thirties,  i.e.  thirty  days  after  death. ^"■^ 

It  is  palpable  what  a  strong  motive  for  almsgiving  was 
involved  in  the  notion,  that  it  could  deliver  oneself  and 
others  from  the  torments  of  hell.  Venial  sins,  it  is  said 
in  a  pseudo-Augustinian  sermon,^^  do  not  indeed  cause 
death,  but  they  make  the  soul  so  loathsome,  that  it  can- 
not meet  the  heavenly  bridegroom  without  confusion. 
Hence  they  must  be  expiated  by  fasting,  praying  and 
almsgiving.  Otherwise  we  must  remain  in  purgatory  till 
these  sins  are  consumed  like  wood,  hay  and  stubble. 
We  must  not,  however,  say :  Although  I  nmst  go  into 
purgatory,  what  is  the  harm,  if  only  I  be  saved  at  last  ? 
Purgatory  is  worse  than  anything  we  can  conceive  on 
earth.  We  would  not  willingly  thrust  a  finger  into  the 
fire  now,  and  we  shall  then  be  tormented  for  years.  We 
must  therefore  abstain  from  mortal  sins,  and  expiate 
pardonable  offences  with  good  works.  As  often  as  we 
visit  the  sick,  deliver  those  lying  in  prisons  and  in  chains, 
fast  on  the  appointed  days,  wash  the  feet  of  strangers, 
come  frequently  to  vigils,  give  alms  to  the  poor  who  pass 
our  doors,  our  smaller  sins  are  daily  atoned  for  by  these 
good  works. 


294        CHRISTIAN  CHAEITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  HI. 

Thus  was  the  sin-atoning  power  of  alms  extended  to 
this  world  and  the  next ;  they  were  deemed  capable  of 
preserving  ourselves  and  others  from  the  horrors  of 
purgatory.  This  motive  for  almsgiving  was  the  more 
powerfully  efficient,  inasmuch  as  it  could  not  be  known 
when  a  sufficient  quantity  of  good  works  had  been  per- 
formed. It  is  easily  seen,  that  in  those  exhortations  which 
make  use  of  this  motive,  the  uncertainty  which  impels  to 
do  more  and  more,  because  it  can  never  be  known  whether 
enough  has  been  done,  is  powerfully  brought  forward. 
It  cannot  be  known  whether  one  departed  needs  or  does 
not  need  alms,  for  his  deliverance  out  of  purgatory,  or 
whether  they  profit  or  do  not  profit  him.  Hence  the  one 
thing  advisable  is  to  give  them  for  all.  "  Perhaps,"  says 
Salvian,  "it  may  even  help  the  quite  wicked,"  and 
Augustine  also  concedes  tlie  possibility  of  an  alleviation 
of  perdition.^*  Who  would  not  devote  as  much  as  he 
possibly  could,  if  there  were  but  a  glimpse  of  hope,  that 
lie  might  thereby  procure  for  his  father,  mother,  brethren, 
children,  a  mitigation  of  torment  ?  Besides,  no  one  was 
ever  certain  of  his  own  salvation.  Man  does  not  know 
whether  his  works  are  so  constituted,  that  God  judges 
them  to  be  good  works.  Hence  even  the  saints  have  no 
unmixed  joy  in  their  good  works.  A  letter  of  Gregory 
the  Great  to  a  lady-in-waiting  of  the  Empress,  named 
Gregoria,  is  in  this  respect  characteristic.  Gregoria  had 
written  to  him,  that  she  would  leave  him  no  peace  till  he 
wrote  to  her,  that  the  forgiveness  of  her  sins  was  revealed 
to  him.  Thereupon  Gregory  replies  :  Thou  hast  asked 
something  which  is  hard  to  comply  with,  and  moreover 
unprofitable.  Hard  to  comply  with,  because  I  am  un- 
worthy to  receive  a  revelation;  unprofitable,  because  thou 
must  not  surrender  thyself  to  full  security  on  account  of 


CHAP.  III.]  ALMS.  295 

tTiy  sins,  till  on  the  day  of  thy  death  thou  canst  weep  for 
them  no  more.  Till  that  day  comes,  thou  must  ever  fear 
and  tremble-  because  of  thy  sius.*^  No  one  must  be 
certain,  every  one  must  live  in  fear,  and  this  fear  must 
urge  him  to  do  more  and  more.  As  much  alms  as 
possible,  was  now  the  rule.  We  do  not  indeed  know 
whether  we  still  need  them,  but  in  any  case  we  earn 
thereby  so  much  the  more  merit,  and  if  we  do  not  need 
this  merit  ourselves,  we  can  apply  it  to  others.  It  is 
also  but  a  trifle  that  we  give,  compared  with  the  great 
thing  we  expect.  For  who  would  not  rather  sacrifice 
something  here,  than  suffer  there  unspeakable  torments  in 
purgatory  ?  Therefore,  as  much  alms  as  possible.  If  the 
distress  of  the  times  urged  the  teachers  of  the  Church  to 
use  every  lever  to  impel  to  almsgiving,  the  members  of 
the  Church  with  their  now  increasing  laxity,  if  they, 
surrounded  as  they  were  by  hundreds  of  poor,  expecting 
everything  from  them,  were  already  near  enough  to 
regard  rather  the  quantity  of  the  alms  obtained,  than 
the  purity  of  the  disposition  in  which  they  originated, 
what  must  have  been  the  case  with  the  ordinary  Chris- 
tian ?  Alms  can  do  everything,  atone  for  everything, 
help  in  every  need  !  How  often  must  earnest  men,  like 
Augustine,  have  had  to  oppose  the  delusion,  that  a  man 
might  live  as  he  pleased,  if  only  he  gave  alms  to  the  poor ! 
But  the  worst  harm  lay  in  that  uncertainty  as  to  forgive- 
ness and  a  share  in  everlasting  blessedness,  so  decidedly 
declared  by  the  Church  to  be  inevitable,  nay,  necessary, 
and  which  it  was  sought  to  obviate  by  almsgiving.  The 
Church  offered  to  her  members  expiation  upon  expiation ; 
these  were,  moreover,  belie vingly  received,  but  it  almost 
seems  as  if  they  were,  nevertheless,  not  really  trusted  in  ; 
men  were  not  at  heart  satisfied  with  them,  and  therefore 


296        CHEISTIAN  CHAEITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHUECH.      [book  III. 

strove  to  obtain,  or  at  least  to  strengthen  an  assurance  of 
salvation  by  tlieir  own  doings,  esjDecially  by  almsgiving.*^ 
In  order,  however,  to  a  right  estimation  of  the  alms- 
deeds  of  this  period,  it  will  now  be  necessary  to  take  a 
glance  also  at  the  moral  views  held  concerning  property, 
and  concerning  riches  and  poverty.  It  is  not  quite  easy 
to  be  certain  in  this  matter,  and  opinions  therefore  differ. 
While  some  represent  the  views  of  the  Fathers  as  more 
or  less  communistic,  others,  on  the  contrary,  maintain, 
that  they  always  firmly  adhered  to  the  scriptural  decision 
concerning  property,  and  that  their  views  on  wealth  and 
poverty  were  still,  in  a  moral  point  of  view,  thoroughly 
sound.*^  The  investigation  is  rendered  the  more  difficult 
by  the  highly  rhetorical  character  of  our  documents. 
These  are  in  the  first  rank  sermons,  and  certainly  words 
spoken  in  ardour  and  eagerness  must  not  be,  without 
further  ceremony,  taken  as  they  stand.  It  would  be  easy 
to  collect  a  series  of  passages  which  sound  quite  com- 
munistic, and  seem  to  deny  all  right  to  private  property. 
*'  Whom  do  I  injure,  sayest  thou,  if  I  keep  what  is  my 
own  ? "  are  the  words  put  by  Basil,  in  one  of  his  homilies, 
into  the  mouth  of  the  hard-hearted,  to  whom  he  replies : 
"  Tell  me  then  what  is  thine  own  ?  Whence  didst  thou 
obtain  it  and  bring  it  into  the  world  ?  The  rich  are  just 
like  one  who  has  taken  his  place  in  the  theatre,  and 
crowds  all  who  come  in  later,  as  if  the  playhouse,  which 
is  for  all,  were  for  him  only.  For  they  first  take  possession 
for  themselves  alone  of  what  is  common  to  all,  and  then 
lay  claim  to  it  as  property,  because  they  obtained  it  first. 
If  each  would  only  take  as  much  as  he  needs  to  satisfy 
his  necessary  requirements,  where,  then,  would  be  the 
rich,  and  where  the  poor  ?  "  *^  But  we  should  be  doing 
Basil  injustice  if  we  should  at  once  conclude  from  this, 


CHAP,  ra]  ALMS.  29V 

that  Basil  intended  to  deny  the  rights  of  property,  and 
looked  upon  riches  as  in  themselves  sinful.  We  ought 
rightly  to  estimate,  and  not  to  turn  into  doctrinal  proposi- 
tions the  words  of  Ambrose,  wlien,  in  his  sermon  on 
Naboth,  he  thunders  against  those  who  do  like  Ahab,  and 
thus  addresses  the  rich:^'  "How  far  will  you  stretch  your 
mad  desires  ?  Do  you  alone  dwell  upon  tlie  earth  ?  Why 
do  you  cast  them  out,  who  are  by  nature  your  fellows, 
and  seize  upon  the  possessions  of  nature  for  yourselves 
alone  ?  The  earth  is  given  as  a  common  property  to  all, 
to  rich  ^nd  poor.  Why  do  you,  who  are  rich,  claim 
rights  of  property  for  yourselves  only  ?  Nature,  which 
brings  forth  all  poor,  knows  of  no  rich.  Naked  did  we 
come  into  the  world,  and  a  grassy  hillock  equally  covers 
rich  and  poor."  Nor  must  we  take  it  literally,  when 
Chrysostom,  addressing  a  richly  dressed  lady,  says :  "  Of 
how  many  poor,  0  woman,  dost  thou  bear  upon  thine 
arms  the  spoil  ?  "  Or  when  Jerome  says :  "  Eightly  does 
Jesus  call  wealth  the  unrighteous  mammon,  for  all  wealth 
arises  from  unrighteousness.  The  one  can  only  gain 
what  the  other  loses ;  hence  the  saying :  '  Every  rich 
man  is  a  rogue,  or  the  heir  of  a  rogue.' "  *** 

Nor  is  the  matter  settled  by  opposing  to  tliis  series  of 
passages  another  series,  in  which  the  rights  of  property 
are  acknowledged,  and  the  possession  of  wealth  justified. 
Certainly  the  Synod  of  Gangra  was  protecting  the  riglits 
of  property  against  hyper-ascetic  efforts,  when  it  said  in 
its  4th  canon :  "  We  do  not  despise  wealth,  if  it  is  com- 
bined with  justice  and  benevolence."  "  It  is  not  wealth," 
says  Ambrose,^'  "  but  pride  of  wealth,  that  is  reproved  in 
the  rich  man,  otherwise  poor  Lazarus  would  not  have 
been  carried  to  the  bosom  of  rich  Abraham."  "  Paul  did 
not  forbid  men  to  enrich  themselves:  he  did  not  command 


298         CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH,        [boOK  HI. 

them  to  make  themselves  poor,  to  deprive  themselves  of 
their  wealth,  but  only  not  to  be  proud  of  their  wealth," 
preaches  Chrysostom ;  '"'^  and  in  entire  agreement  with 
Scripture  do  we  read  in  Augustine :  "  Wealth  is  in  itself, 
and  according  to  its  nature,  a  good,  though  not  the  highest, 
nor  a  great  good."  ^^  The  Fathers  also  define  giving  as  a 
matter  entirely  left  to  the  free-will  of  the  individual. 
"  God  might  have  constrained  us  to  give  alms,  He  chose 
instead  to  make  it  depend  entirely  on  our  free-will,  that 
He  might  have  the  opportunity  of  rewarding  us."  We 
are  at  liberty  to  give  or  not  to  give.  Ananias  and 
Sapphira  were  punished  only  because  "  they  lied  unto  the 
Holy  Ghost."  ^  The  Fathers  are  very  far  from  preaching 
to  the  poor:  What  the  rich  possess,  properly  belongs  to 
you.  On  the  contrary,  they  urgently  warn  the  poor 
against  envy,  and  energetically  as  they  remind  the  rich 
of  their  duty  to  give  all  to  the  poor,  they  eq[ually  testify 
to  the  poor,  that  they  have  no  right  to  this. 

But  all  these  utterances  do  in  truth  prove  nothing  to 
the  purpose,  for  what  they  certainly  do  prove,  viz.  that 
the  Fathers  had  no  intention  of  abolishing  the  rights  of 
property,  is  really  in  no  need  of  proof.  This  does  not, 
however,  show  that  the  views  now  held  of  property,  of 
wealth  and  poverty  were  still  morally  sound,  that  they 
were  still  the  same  as  in  the  early  days  of  the  Church, 
and  had  not  already  undergone  a  great  change. 

The  latter  is,  on  the  contrary,  shown  in  the  now 
universally  accepted  maxim,  that  the  relinquishment  of 
property  is  the  higher  state  of  Christian  life.  The  Synod 
of  Gangra  prefixes  to  its  recognition  of  property  the 
sentence :  "  We  approve  of  abstinence  from  worldly  occu- 
pations, if  it  is  accompanied  by  humility."  To  possess 
property,  to  be  rich,  is  quite  allowable  for  a  Christian, 


CHAP,  iil]  alms.  299 

and  does  not  hinder  his  salvation.  The  Church  most 
decidedly  rejects  the  view,  that  wealth  is  sinful.  Still  to 
be  poor  is  a  higher  moral  condition.  All  the  Fathers 
whom  we  have  quoted  lived  in  this  condition,  they  gave 
up  their  property,  and  so  ought  it  to  be  with  all  Chris- 
tians. Augustine  on  one  occasion  explains,^^  that  all  the 
strife  in  the  world,  wars,  rebellion,  offences,  murder, 
injustice,  arise  concerning  what  we  individually  possess. 
Concerning  those  things  which  we  possess  in  common, 
like  the  sun  and  the  air,  no  strife  arises.  "  Let  us  then, 
my  brethren,"  he  continues,  "abstain  from  private  property, 
or  at  least  from  the  love  of  it,  if  we  cannot  abstain  from 
its  possession."  The  latter  is  thus  evidently  designated 
as  the  morally  inferior  condition,  and  as  one  only  per- 
mitted to  weakness,  and  in  this  connection  the  above- 
mentioned  utterances  on  common  and  private  property 
acquire  another  significance  than  that  of  mere  rhetorical 
treatment.  Augustine  ^  says,  indeed,  very  decidedly,  tliat 
it  is  not  a  sin  to  be  rich,  nor  is  it  a  sin  if  any  one  makes 
use  of  his  riches,  fares,  e.g.,  better  than  others ;  but  still  it 
is  a  weakness,  and  riches  are  a  burden,  which  one  would 
do  best  to  cast  off,  "God  did  not  create  thee  alone,  but 
also  the  poor  man  as  well.  You  find  yourselves  com- 
panions, and  are  walking  on  the  same  road.  He  carries 
nothing,  and  thou  art  heavily  laden.  He  brings  nothing 
with  him,  and  thou  more  than  is  needful.  Give  him  of 
what  thou  hast,  and  thou  wilt  both  feed  him  and  lighten 
thine  own  load." 

It  is  everywhere  the  opinion  of  the  Fathers,  that  the 
natural  and  original  order  is  common  property,  and  tliat 
private  property  first  arose  from  sin.  It  is  for  this  very 
reason,  that  Ambrose,  in  his  work  on  duties,  refuses  the 
ancient  definition  of  justice,  which  makes  it  refer  also  to 


300         CHRISTIAN  CHAKITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.        [booK  HI. 

private  property.  It  refers  only  to  the  common  life  of 
men.  For  this  corresponds  with  nature.  "  Nature  has 
equally  poured  forth  everything  upon  all,  that  food  might 
be  common  to  all,  and  the  earth  a  common  possession. 
Nature  brought  forth  the  rights  of  tlie  community, 
usurpation  first  created  private  rights."  ^^  Gregory  of 
Nazianzus  having,  in  his  sermon  on  love  to  the  poor,  first 
laid  down  the  proposition  :  "  Love  is  the  shortest  way  of 
salvation,  the  easiest  ascent  to  heaven,"  explains,  that 
wealth  and  poverty,  like  freedom  and  slavery,  are  not 
original  institutions  of  God,  but  came  into  the  world 
through  sin.  Envy,  strife,  the  allurements  of  pleasure, 
power  first  called  forth  these  inequalities.  It  is,  therefore, 
the  duty  of  the  Christian  to  labour  for  the  removal  of  the 
inequality,  brought  in  through  sin  and  for  the  restoration 
of  the  primitive  equality.  "  Do  thou,  0  Christian,  look 
to  the  former  equality  and  not  to  the  subsequent  disunion, 
to  the  law  of  the  Creator,  not  to  the  law  of  him,  who 
gained  the  victory  ^ver  him.  Help  the  natural  order 
with  all  thy  powers."  With  Gregory  the  distinction 
between  rich  and  poor  is  therefore  entirely  parallel  with 
that  between  bond  and  free,  as  a  thing  contrary  to  the 
original  ordinance  of  God,  and  it  is  the  duty  of  the 
Christian  to  labour  by  gifts  and  grants  and  alms,  for  the 
restoration  of  the  original  equality. 

Chrysostom  really  paints  in  lively  colours,  in  a  sermon 
on  the  Church  of  Jerusalem,  in  which  there  was  none 
that  suffered  want,  the  picture  of  a  communistically 
constituted  society.  If  all  the  Christians  in  Con- 
stantinople would  sell  their  possessions,  they  would 
certainly  produce  a  million  ]  ounds  gold,  perhaps  even 
two  or  three  millions.  This  would  fully  suffice,  if  all 
would  live  in  common,  to  satisfy  the  wants  of  all,  so  that 


CHAP.  III.]  ALMS.  301 

no  one  would  lack  anything,  as  was  the  case  in  Jerusalem. 
For  as  he  now  shows,  with  a  fair  amount  of  detail  and  a 
glance  at  monastic  life,  where  this  is  realized,  living  in 
common  requires  far  smaller  means.  If  a  father,  mother, 
and  ten  children  live  together,  this  costs  far  less  than  if 
each  child  lived  alone  and  had  his  separate  house,  table, 
and  attendants.  Certainly  Chrysostom  did  not  seriously 
contemplate  the  carrying  out  of  such  a  plan,  still  he 
draws  the  picture  with  such  evident  zest,  tliat  we  feel, 
that  though  it  is  an  ideal  whose  realization  he  deems 
impossible,  he  yet  enjoys  its  contemplation  in  private. 
He  does  but  paint  the  ideal,  which  in  truth  hovered 
before  the  eyes  of  all  the  Fathers,  an  ideal  to  become  also 
a  reality,  not  indeed  among  the  multitudes  of  ordinary 
Christians,  but  among  the  perfect  in  monasteries.  So  far, 
there  is  a  communistic  feature  in  the  view  entertained  by 
the  Fathers.*^ 

Hence,  when  the  right  use  of  wealth  is  spoken  of, 
giving  it  away  is  alwaj'^s  dwelt  on  in  a  onesided 
manner,  Nay,  it  may  be  said,  that  the  Fathers  see  its 
right  use  in  giving  it  away.  Its  use  for  our  own 
necessities  is  indeed  conceded,  and  even  the  adornments 
and  enjoyments  of  life  permitted,  but  still  these  are 
already  under  a  cloud.  They  are  not  exactly  sins,  but 
they  are  weaknesses.  The  Christian  must  only  so  far 
use  his  property  for  himself,  as  the  necessaries  of  life 
require.  It  is  quite  common  to  meet  with  the  maxim,  that 
all  that  a  man  possesses  beyond  what  is  necessary,  belongs 
to  the  poor,  and  ought  to  be  given  away.  So  Augustine  :  "^ 
"  All  that  God  has  given  us  beyond  what  is  necessary. 
He  has  not  properly  speaking  given  to  us.  He  has  but 
entrusted  it  to  us,  that  it  may  by  our  means  come  into 
the  hands  of  the  poor.     To  retain  it  is  to  take  possession 


302        CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.        [book  m. 

of  what  belongs  to  others."  "  Of  what  God  has  given 
you,  take  beforehand  what  you  need.  The  rest,  which  is 
the  superfluous  for  you,  is  the  necessary  for  the  poor." 
"  Let  not  what  remains  after  moderate  food  and  modest 
clothing  are  provided  for,  be  retained  for  luxury,  but 
laid  up,  by  means  of  alms  distributed  to  the  poor,  among 
heavenly  treasures."  And  to  give  only  one  more  example, 
Jerome  ^'^  quite  similarly  says  :  "  We  are  debtors  to  the 
poor  of  all  that  exceeds  necessary  food  and  raiment." 
As  a  scriptural  proof  Luke  xi.  42  was  now  adduced, 
according  to  tlie  interpretation,  "  What  is  superfluous, 
give  as  alms."  ^^ 

Thus  the  rights  of  property  were  limited  to  the 
necessary,  the  superfluous  is  not  the  property  of  him  who 
possesses  it,  but  of  the  poor.  "  Thou  dost  not  give  to  the 
poor  what  is  thine  own,  thou  restorest  to  liim  what  is 
his.  The  earth  belongs  to  all,  not  to  the  rich  only. 
Thou  art  there  for  paying  thy  debt,  and  givest  him  only 
what  thou  owest  him,"  says  Ambrose.  And  Chry- 
sostom  :  ^^  "  The  poor  beg  for  their  own,  not  thine."  The 
error  is  here  quite  evident.  The  rich  man  is  truly  a 
debtor;  he  is  only  doing  his  duty,  when  he  does  not  use 
his  riches  for  himself,  but  shares  them  with  the  poor. 
But  he  is  God's  debtor,  and  his  alms  have  a  moral  worth, 
just  when  it  is  for  God's  sake,  that  he  gives  to  the  poor 
what  is  really  his  own.  To  divide  property  into  the 
necessary  and  the  superfluous,  and  to  limit  the  rights  of 
property  to  the  former,  and  consequently  to  restrict  the 
duty  of  almsgiving  to  the  latter,  is  to  make  a  false 
distinction  and  one  really  impossible  to  carry  out.^^  The 
Christian  is  in  the  fullest  sense  the  possessor  of  all  that 
God  has  given  liim,  but  also  on  the  other  hand  bound, 
when  need  requires,  to  give  away  all 


CHAP,  m.]  ALMS.  303 

If  all  that  is  possessed  beyond  the  necessary  belongs 
properly  to  the  poor,  and  what  is  given  them  is  only 
what  is  their  due,  the  duty  of  love  has  acquired  somewhat 
of  the  character  of  a  legal  duty,  and  hence  we  cannot  be 
surprised,  if  in  the  treatment  of  morals,  benevolence 
should  be  discussed  under  the  category  of  justice.  It 
now  obtains  this  situation,  to  retain  it  during  the  entire 
mediaeval  period.  Not  only  on  this  account,  however,  is 
it  important,  to  take  one  more  glance  at  this  form  of 
doctrine,  but  because  also  it  is  characteristic  in  the 
highest  degree  of  the  period  we  are  now  discussing.  For 
it  is  a  very  evident  symptom  of  a  development,  which 
deserves  the  highest  degree  of  notice,  if  we  are  rightly  to 
understand  the  times  of  the  ancient  church,  a  symptom 
of  the  fact,  that  now — as  we  have  already  had  occasion 
several  times  to  remark  in  particulars — a  wide  current  of 
ancient  views  and  ancient  life  flows  into  and  mingles 
with  Christian  views  and  Christian  life. 

The  first  Christian  Ethic  is  the  work  of  Ambrose,  On 
Duties.  It  borrows  its  title,  and  something  more  than 
its  title,  from  Cicero's  famous  work.  It  might  be  called 
a  translation  of  a  Ciceronian  work  into  Christian.  It  is 
just  in  the  sphere  of  morals,  that  the  influence  of  ancient 
views  would  make  itself  more  strongly  felt  than  in  that 
of  dogma.  The  Romans  had  never  been  strong  in 
theology.  Besides,  men  will  sooner  part  with  dogmas 
than  moral  aims.  The  teachers  of  the  Church  found  a 
complete  and  well-worked  out  philosophical  system  of 
Ethic.  They  had  learned  this  in  the  schools.  The  great 
Cappadocians,  Basil  and  Gregory,  had  studied  in  the 
rhetorical  schools  of  Athens,  and  Ambrose  had  been 
brought  up  and  taught,  like  any  other  aristocratic  Eoman 
of  the  day.     Hence  Jthey  accepted  the  entire  framework 


304         CHEISTIAN  CIIAKITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.        [booK  III. 

of  ancient  Ethic,  its  categories  and  definitions,  and  used 
it  for  the  insertion  of  the  new  Christian  matter.  The 
new  wine  was  put  into  old  bottles,  and  this  could  not  be 
done  without  its  acquiring  their  flavour.  The  form 
influenced  the  matter,  and  the  result  was  not  a  Christian 
Ethic,  but  a  mixture,  which  is  perceived  to  have  flowed 
from  two  sources,  one  ancient,  one  Christian,  just  as 
Basil  w^is  at  once  a  Christian  and  a  classically  educated 
Greek,  and  Ambrose  a  Christian  and  a  genuine  Roman, 
nay,  just  as  the  Christianity  of  those  days  was  of 
similarly  mixed  appearance,  rooted  on  the  one  side  in 
Bethlehem  and  Golgotha,  on  the  other  in  Eome  and 
Athens. 

This  is  seen  as  soon  as  Ambrose  defines  the  principle 
and  the  task  of  Ethic.*^  Ancient  Ethic  is  thoroughly 
eudiemonistic ;  the  aim  of  the  philosopher,  even  in  his 
moral  conduct,  is  his  own  wellbeing.  Ambrose  of  course 
had  to  renounce  this  principle,  but  he  lays  down  a  more 
refined  eudnemonism  in  its  place.  Philosophers,  he 
argues,  ask  what  is  "  profitable  and  honourable,"  but  have 
in  this  inquiry  only  this  life  in  view.  "  We,  however, 
estimate  what  is  profitable  and  honourable,  rather  by  the 
standard  of  things  to  come,  than  of  things  present,  and 
define  as  profitable  not  what  contributes  to  the  enjoyment 
of  this  life,  but  what  helps  to  attain  the  grace  of  eternal 
life."  Here  too,  then,  all  turns  upon  Ethic  teaching  us 
not  how  to  prove  our  faith,  how  to  develop  the  new 
life  in  all  aspects,  but  what  we  must  do  for  our  own 
weal,  with  only  the  difference  that  our  welfare,  not  in 
this  world,  but  in  the  world  to  come,  our  eternal  salva- 
tion, is  the  question.  An  enormous  difference  truly ;  but 
that  a  sound  moral  estimation  of  earthly  property  can 
never  by  this  means  be  arrived  at  is  shown  at  once  by 


CHAP.  III.]  ALMS.  305 

the  manner  in  which  Ambrose  himself  exemplifies  the 
difference.  Just  because  Christians  look  to  another 
world,  earthly  possessions  appear  to  them  not  an  advan- 
tage, but  a  disadvantage ;  they  are,  unless  they  are  cast 
away,  only  a  burden.  The  Christian  ethic  of  Ambrose 
is  the  counterpart  of  the  ancient,  the  latter  is  an  ethic 
purely  of  this  world,  the  former  purely  of  another  world ; 
but,  in  truth,  their  aim  is  the  same,  a  man's  own  well- 
being.  With  this  corresponds  also  the  manner  in  which 
benevolence  is  regarded,  the  aim  is  always  self,  the  reward 
to  be  gained  thereby.  It  is  not  the  necessary  working 
of  faith  by  love,  but  a  means  of  obtaining  salvation. 

More  plainly  still  is  the  influence  of  ancient  ethic 
shown,  when  we  notice  in  what  position,  and  how, 
Ambrose  speaks  of  benevolence.^  Here,  too,  he  makes 
use  of  the  ancient  framework  handed  down  by  ancient 
ethic.  This,  as  is  well  known,  distinguished  four 
cardinal  virtues,  prudence,  justice,  fortitude,  and  temper- 
ance. Ambrose  introduced  this  mode  of  treatment 
into  Christian  ethic,  and  it  continued  in  force  down  to 
the  Reformation.  Benevolence  is  discussed  under  tlie 
head  of  "justice,"  and  is  its  proper  agency,  because 
true  justice  relates  to  the  common.  It  comprises  two 
points,  benevolence  and  liberality.  Both  are  insepar- 
ably connected,  for  it  is  not  enough  to  have  a  good 
will,  we  must  also  act ;  and  again,  it  is  not  enough 
to  do  good,  but  this  must  also  proceed  from  a  good 
will.  Very  beautifully  does  Ambrose  say  :  "  Take  away 
benevolence  from  the  intercourse  of  men  with  each 
other,  and  thou  hast  taken  the  sun  out  of  the  world." 
Benevolence  becomes  a  fact  in  liberality,  and  Ambrose 
now  describes  Christian  beneficence  as  liberality.  Un- 
doubtedly much  that  he  here  says  is  genuinely  Christian, 

u 


306        CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  iii. 

it  could  not  have  grown  up  out  of  the  soil  of  antiquity ; 
but  it  acquires  a  very  strongly  ancient  colouring  from 
the  circumstance,  that  all  is  treated  of  under  the  ancient 
title  of  liberality.  How  the  practice  agrees  with  the 
theory,  we  have  seen  above,  for  we  were  already  struck 
by  the  suspicious  likeness  between  ancient  liberality  and 
the  almsgiving  of  the  bishops.  We  may  now  characterize 
the  charity  of  the  age  by  saying,  that  as  all  Christian 
life  exhibits  a  mingling  of  Christian  and  ancient  elements, 
and  as  the  ethic  of  Ambrose  is  Christian-Ciceronian,  so 
too  is  charity  a  mingling  of  Christian  caritas  and  ancient 
liheralitas.  Men  gave  with  full  hands,  but  more  and 
more  lost  sight  of  the  purpose  for  the  sake  of  which  they 
gave.  Giving  was  itself  esteemed  a  virtue.  The  more 
any  one  gave,  the  more  perfect  was  he. 

In  saying  this,  nothing  is  further  from  my  intention, 
than  to  depreciate  the  charity  of  this  period.  On  the 
contrary,  I  stand  admiring  before  the  exalted  figures 
which  it  produced,  before  those  bishops  daily  opening 
their  hands  to  feed  the  hungry  and  to  clothe  the  naked, 
while  themselves  living  simply  and  sparingly,^  before 
those  men,  who  give  away  millions,  and  themselves 
choose  poverty,  before  that  band  of  noble  women,  whose 
whole  life  was  a  series  of  good  deeds.  It  would  be 
doing  them  the  greatest  injustice  not  to  acknowledge,  that 
it  was  indeed  genuine  Christian  fove,  shed  abroad  in  their 
hearts  from  the  Cross,  which  acted  in  them.  Nor  did 
they  stop  at  giving,  but  added  to  it  their  personal 
services.  Basil  himself  took  care  of  the  sick,  and  the 
scions  of  noble  Eoman  families  did  not  think  themselves 
too  good  to  put  their  own  hands  to  the  work  and  to  per- 
form menial  services  in  the  houses  for  the  sick  and  for 
strangers.     But  it  is  doing  them  no  injustice  to  estimate 


CHAP,  m.]  ALMS.  307 

them  according  to  the  standard  of  the  gospel,  which  was 
itself  the  source  of  their  life  and  strength ;  and  when  this 
is  done,  we  must,  in  the  midst  of  our  admiration,  confess, 
that  this  charity  was  no  longer  healthy. 

The  life  of  love  appears  in  its  purest  form  during  this 
period  in  certain  women,  whom  we  meet  with  in  the 
East,  by  the  side  of  the  great  teachers  of  the  Church : 
Macrina,  the  sister  of  Basil  and  Olympias,  the  friend  of 
Chrysostom,  and  to  name,  beside  a  virgin  and  a  widow, 
two  married  women,  Nonna,  the  mother  of  Gregory 
of  Nazianzus,  and  his  sister  Gregoria.  Macrina  was 
betrothed,  her  lover  died,  and  she  regarded  herself  as 
bound  to  him.  She  therefore  led  an  ascetic  life  with  her 
mother.  She  assembled  about  her  a  circle  of  like-minded 
women,  but  though  of  both  higher  and  lower  class,  "  the 
same  mode  of  life,  one  order,  one  discipline,  one  peace, 
one  rank  "  united  them  all.  Her  servants  and  slaves  were 
now  her  companions,  and  she  used  her  abundant  means 
only  in  benevolence.  In  the  period  of  famine  especially, 
which  came  upon  Cappadocia,  she  assisted  many,  and  it 
was  her  brave  spirit  which  attracted  her  whole  family, 
her  brothers,  Basil,  Gregory  of  Nyssa  and  Peter,  into  the 
same  path.  Olympias,  a  woman  of  most  aristocratic 
birth,  rich,  intellectual,  beautiful,  much  admired  and 
sought  after,  preferred,  when  her  husband  Nebridius, 
the  prefect  of  Constantinople,  died,  to  remain  a  widow, 
though  only  eighteen  years  of  age,  and  to  live  only  for 
God  and  for  her  brethren.  The  Emperor  Theodosius, 
who  wanted  to  marry  her,  deprived  her,  for  the  purpose 
of  inducing  her,  of  the  management  of  her  property.  She 
only  replied  with  thanks.  "  You  have,"  she  wrote  to  the 
emperor,  "  shown  towards  your  humble  servant,  the 
wisdom  and  goodness  not  only  of  a  sovereign,  but  of  a 


308        CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [booK  UL 

bishop,  by  laying  the  heavy  burden  of  my  estates  upon 
an  official,  and  thereby  delivering  me  from  the  care  and 
disquietude,  which  the  necessity  of  managing  them  well 
imposed  upon  me.  I  now  only  request  one  thing  more, 
by  granting  which  you  would  much  increase  my  joy  : 
Command  them  to  be  divided  between  the  Church  and 
the  poor.  I  have  already  felt  the  stirrings  of  vanity, 
which  are  wont  to  accompany  one's  own  distribution, 
and  I  fear  lest  the  distractions  of  temporal  possessions 
might  make  me  neglect  those  true  treasures  which  are 
divine  and  spiritual."  Theodosius  subsequently  restored 
to  her  the  management  of  her  estates,  and  she  then 
applied  everything  to  the  poor  and  to  the  Church. 
Chrysostom  directed  her  beneficence,  wliich  seems  to  have 
often  surpassed  all  bounds,  and  might  often  have  been 
shared  by  the  undeserving,  into  right  paths.  He 
reminded  her,  that  she  would  also  have  to  give  account 
of  how  she  had  given.  "  If  thou  wilt  therefore  obey  me, 
guide  thy  gifts  according  to  the  necessities  of  those  who 
beg  of  thee.  In  this  way  thou  wilt  be  able  to  relieve 
more,  and  receive  from  God  the  reward  of  thy  wisdom 
and  love."  When  Chrysostom  fell  into  disfavour  and 
was  banished,  his  deaconess  remained  faithful  to  him, 
and  proved  herein  also  the  genuineness  of  her  love. 
Olympias  is  one  of  the  healthiest  manifestations  of  the 
times.  She  is  always  natural,  slie  never  coquets  with  her 
poverty  and  her  simple  apparel ;  humility  and  noble  eleva- 
tion of  mind  are  large  features  in  her  character.  But  we 
meet  also  with  married  women,  who  are  zealous  in  good 
works.  Nonna,  the  mother  of  Gregory  of  Nazianzus,  is 
depicted"  to  us,  by  her  famous  son,  as  a  philanthropist, 
who  could  never  do  enough  in  supporting  widows  and 
orphans,  in  visiting  the  sick  and  poor,  so  that  she  always 


CHAP,  ni.]  ALMS.  309 

found  her  property  less  than  her  impulse  to  do  good,  and 
would,  had  it  been  possible,  have  sold  herself  and  her 
children  to  serve  the  poor.  She  died,  after  the  death  of 
her  husband,  the  bishop  of  the  chi'irch,  praying  at  the 
high  altar  "  a  holy  sacrifice."  The  sister  of  Gregory  was 
the  wife  of  a  burgess  of  Iconium  ;  but  her  brother  says  of 
her  also  :  "  She  was  eyes  to  the  blind,  feet  to  the  lame, 
a  mother  to  orphans.  Her  house  was  the  common 
asylum  of  all  the  distressed."®^ 

The  characteristic  traits  of  the  period  are  encountered 
in  still  greater  force  in  the  West.  As  it  was  the  Western 
bishops,  Ambrose,  Jerome,  Augustine,  Gregory  the  Great, 
who  matured  the  doctrine  of  whose  development  we  have 
been  speaking,  so  are  its  peculiarities  most  sharply  im- 
pressed on  the  Christian  life  of  the  West. 

It  was  an  amazing  sight,^  in  the  last  quarter  of  the 
fourth  century,  to  see  a  number  of  men  and  women  of 
the  highest  Eoman  aristocracy  devote  themselves  to  an 
earnest  Christian  life,  as  then  understood.  Members  of 
the  proud  old  Roman  families,  who  had  hitherto  adhered 
to  the  old  gods,  who  had  made  Eome  great,  Marcelli, 
Scipios,  Gracchi,  left  their  palaces  to  procure  their  salva- 
tion, by  the  strictest  self-denial,  in  the  monastery  or  the 
desert,  or  turned  their  palaces  into  monasteries,  laid  aside 
the  purple  toga  or  the  brocaded  state  dress,  to  put  on 
the  dusky  garments  of  the  monk  or  nun,  distributed  to 
the  poor  the  treasures  they  inherited  from  their  fore- 
fathers, and  themselves  became  poor.  Eome  saw  with 
amazement  senators  and  consulars  going  along  the  streets 
in  the  garb  of  monks,  and  ladies,  whose  names  had  been 
the  pride  of  the  republic,  ladies  who  had  hitherto  led  idle 
and  luxurious  lives  in  their  palaces,  surrounded  by  troops 
of  attendants,  ministering,  as  widows  or  virgins  devoted 


310        CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [booK  m. 

to  God,  to  squalid  beggars,  and  to  those  sick  of  loathsome 
diseases.  At  first  the  new  folly  was  derided  and  rebuked, 
then  men  began  to  admire  and  extol  it.  At  the  funeral 
of  Blesilla  the  multitude  was  indignant;  "  the  young  lady," 
it  was  said,  "  was  killed  through  fasting ; "  her  mother, 
Paula,  was  pitied  because  her  daughter  had  been  seduced 
into  becoming  a  nun ;  voices  were  heard  saying  that  "  the 
monks  ought  to  be  driven  out  of  the  town."  A  few  years 
later,  at  the  funeral  of  Fabiola,  a  triumphal  procession 
was  formed,  which  Jerome  compared  to  the  triumphs  of 
Camillus  and  Scipio.  All  Rome  took  a  part  in  it,  the 
streets,  the  colonnades,  could  not  contain  the  multitudes, 
psalms  and  hallelujahs  resounded  on  all  sides. 

The  spiritual  father  of  this  circle,  its  centre  and  leader, 
•was  Jerome,  whose  narrow  and  monastic,  but  at  the  same 
time  self-denying  and  self-renouncing  piety,  set  its  stamp 
upon  it.  Marcella  is  said  to  have  been  the  first  who  let 
herself  be  induced  by  him  to  enter  the  condition  of 
monastic  widowhood.  In  her  palace  on  the  Aventine 
Hill,  and  afterwards  in  her  country  seat  near  Rome,  were 
found  assembled  all  who  had  attached  themselves  to  this 
tendency.  It  was  there  that  Jerome  expounded  the 
Scriptures,  there  that  Epiphanius  and  others  sojourned 
when  they  visited  Rome.  Like  Marcella,  Furia,  of  the 
race  of  Camillus,  preferred  a  monastic  widowhood,  and 
to  live  only  for  her  soul's  salvation  and  for  good  works, 
to  a  splendid  second  marriage.  But  the  most  prominent 
figure  of  this  circle  is  Paula,  whose  descent  on  her 
mother's  side  was  derived  from  the  Scipios  and  Gracchi, 
on  her  father's  from  Agamemnon,  and  whose  husband 
was  a  connection  of  the  Julian  house.  Moved  by  care 
for  her  soul's  salvation,  and  by  love  to  the  Lord,  she 
distributed  her  abundant  possessions  with  liberal  hands 


CHAP,  m.]  ALMS.  311 

to  the  poor,  in  the  hope,  as  she  said,  of  thus  leaving  to 
her  children  a  better  inheritance,  even  the  mercy  of 
Christ.  Seeking  out  the  poor  through  all  the  city,  she 
reckoned  it  a  loss  if  the  hungry  or  the  sick  were  fed  by 
another  than  herself.  "  What  poor  man,"  exclaims  Jerome, 
"  has  not  been  buried  in  raiment  supplied  by  her,  what 
sick  man  not  fed  by  her  ? "  When  she  was  remon- 
strated with  on  account  of  this  excess  of  beneficence,  she 
replied,  that  she  wished  to  die  a  beggar,  and  at  her  death 
to  be  covered  in  a  shroud  bestowed  as  a  gift.  "  When  I 
have  become  poor,  I  shall  find  many  who  will  give  to 
me ;  but  if  that  beggar  receives  nothing  from  me,  and 
dies,  of  whom  will  his  soul  be  required  ?  "  ^  Afterwards, 
leaving  her  other  children  in  Eome,  she  went,  accom- 
panied by  her  daughter  Eustochium,  who  entirely  entered 
into  her  way  of  life,  and  shared  her  sentiments,  to  visit 
the  holy  places  where  the  Lord  had  sojourned,  and  then 
settled  permanently  at  Bethlehem,  that  she  might  live 
and  die  near  His  cradle.  There  she  built  a  house  for 
pilgrims,  and  a  monastery,  in  which  she  and  her  daughter 
spent  the  last  years  of  her  life  in  ministering  to  all. 
Her  second  daughter,  Blesilla,  died  before  her,  the  same 
at  whose  funeral  liome  was  horrified  at  the  new  kind  of 
life.  A  third,  Paulina,  married  to  a  senator,  Panima- 
chius,  a  descendant  of  Camillus,  followed  the  example 
of  her  mother.  After  her  death  Pammachius  continued 
her  works.  He  sold  her  jewels  and  ornaments,  her  silk 
dresses,  her  costly  furniture,  to  give  the  proceeds  to  the 
poor.  Jerome  describes  his  good  deeds,  and  this  descrip- 
tion, in  his  somewhat  bombastic  manner,  gives  us  at  the 
same  time  a  glance  of  the  misery  then  existing:'*^  "That 
blind  man  stretching  out  his  hand,  and  often  crying  out 
when  there  is  no  one  passing,  is  the  heir  of  Paulina,  the 


312        CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.      [book  ni. 

co-heir  of  Pammachius.  That  man,  maimed  in  his  feet, 
who  stumbles  along  with  difficulty,  is  supported  by  the 
hand  of  a  tender  girl.  The  doors,  which  formerly  were 
beset  by  tribes  of  visitors,  are  now  besieged  by  the 
wretched.  Here  is  one  languishing  of  dropsy  and  near 
to  death ;  there  one  deaf  and  dumb,  he  has  not  even  the 
organ  for  begging,  but  for  this  very  reason  supplicates 
the  more  urgently.  This  man,  feeble  from  a  child,  does 
not  beg  alms  alone ;  that  one,  already  corrupting  from 
leprosy,  still  survives  his  corpse.  Other  husbands  scatter 
roses,  lilies,  violets  upon  the  graves  of  their  wives,  seeking 
consolation  in  such  service.  Our  Pammachius  bedews  the 
beloved  body  with  the  balsam  of  alms." 

Pammachius  devoted  a  portion  of  his  means  to  found 
a  house  for  strangers  in  Portus,  the  port  of  Eome,  in 
which  Fabiola,  another  woman  of  this  circle,  assisted 
him  with  both  her  property  and  services.  Fabiola,  de- 
scended, as  her  name  already  shows,  from  the  Fabian  gens, 
had  married  a  rich  spendthrift  and  been  divorced  from 
him.  She  was  then,  however,  convinced  of  her  sin,  did 
public  penance,  and  henceforth  lived  only  for  the  sick 
and  poor.  She  employed  the  great  treasures  at  her  dis- 
posal to  found  the  first  hospital  in  Eome.  Sufferers,  of 
whom  there  were  then  so  many, — men  with  mutilated 
noses,  with  eyes  thrust  out,  with  half-gangrened  feet  and 
mortified  hands,  those  affected  with  corrupting  sores  and 
leprosy, — found  there  shelter  and  care.  Fabiola  herself 
often  carried  the  sick  into  the  house,  washed  and  bound 
up  wounds,  which  other  ladies  would  not  even  have  looked 
at,  gave  them  food,  and  refreshed  them  witli  drink.  Her 
attention  to  them  was  so  maternal  and  so  amiable,  that, 
as  Jerome  says,  the  poor  wished  to  be  sick,  if  only  to 
come  under  her  care. 


CHAP,  in.]  AXMS.  313 

Besides  this  circle,  gathered  around  Paula,  we  must 
not  omit  to  mention  especially  the  two  Melanias,  the 
elder  the  grandmother,  the  other  her  granddaughter  of 
the  same  name.  The  elder  Melania,  descended  from  a 
side  branch  of  the  Marcelli,  the  daughter  of  a  consul,  lost 
in  one  year  her  husband  and  two  children.  Seeking 
alleviation  for  her  grief,  she  left  her  only  remaining  sou 
in  Eome,  and  went,  when  but  twenty-two  years  old,  to 
Egypt,  there  visited  the  monks,  and  devoted  herself 
entirely  to  that  kind  of  life.  In  Jerusalem  she  built  a 
convent,  in  which  she  gathered  around  her  fifty  virgins. 
Her  income  was  given  to  the  monks  and  to  the  poor. 
She  lived  there  for  more  than  twenty-five  years,  when 
care  for  her  son  and  his  daugliter,  the  younger  Llelania, 
urged  her  to  revisit  her  home.  Upon  her  road,  she  visited 
Paulinus,  her  relative,  at  Nola,  who  was,  even  during  his 
lifetime,  honoured  as  a  saint,  and  who  lived  tliere  in  a 
small  house  with  his  wife,  Theresia,  and  passed  his  time 
in  religious  exercises.  Paulinus,  too,  was  one  of  those 
Eoman  nobles  who  retired  from  the  world,  nay,  was 
perhaps  the  most  characteristic  figure  among  them.  Born 
in  Bordeaux,  and  immensely  rich  (Ambrose  calls  his 
possessions  kingdoms,  and  Augustine  designates  him  as 
"  the  richest  of  the  rich"),  he  received  a  liberal  education. 
His  tutor  was  the  poet  Ausonius,  who,  with  some  amount 
indeed  of  flattery,  declared  himself  surpassed  by  his 
scholars.  In  the  year  378,  Paulinus  became  consul,  and 
afterwards  went,  as  a  consular,  into  Campania.  Even  tlien 
his  love  for  a  monkish  life  seemed  to  awaken.  For 
Martin  of  Tours,  who  loved  him,  and  said  of  liini,  that  he 
alone  of  his  contemporaries  had  entirely  fulfilled  the 
command  of  Christ,  and  Ambrose,  whom  he  himself 
honoured  as  his  spiritual  father,  had  taught  him,  that  only 


314        CHKISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  m. 

as  a  monk  can  one  become  a  perfect  Christian.  When, 
then,  his  only  son,  whom  Theresia  had  borne  him,  was 
torn  from  him  by  death,  both  the  parents  resolved  to 
renounce  the  world  and  lead  a  monastic  life.  In  Spain, 
whither  he  first  repaired,  he  distributed  a  large  propor- 
tion of  his  own  and  his  wife's  property  to  the  Church 
and  to  the  poor,  because,  as  he  himself  said,  "  it  required 
more  strength  than  he  gave  himself  credit  for  to  renounce 
the  use  of  possessions  while  retaining  their  ownership, 
than  if  he  cast  them  from  him."  He  then  settled  in  Nola, 
where  he  built  a  monastery,  in  which  he  and  Theresia 
occupied  a  humble  dwelling,  and  subjected  themselves 
entirely  to  a  strict  rule  of  life.  He  gradually  distributed 
his  whole  property.  "  He  opened,"  says  his  disciple 
Uranius,  "  his  barns  to  the  poor,  his  storehouses  to 
strangers  who  arrived.  It  was  too  small  a  thing  for  him 
to  feed  whole  provinces,  he  invited  from  aU  quarters 
those  whom  he  fed  and  clothed.  How  many  prisoners 
did  he  not  ransom,  how  many  debtors  oppressed  by  their 
creditors  did  he  not  liberate  by  paying  off"  their  debts,  by 
the  same  pious  deed  drying  the  tears  of  the  debtor  and 
rejoicing  the  creditor  ! "  ISTola  became  a  place  of  refuge 
for  crowds  of  unfortunates,  and  what  was  believed  of 
him,  is  shown  by  the  legend  handed  down  concerning  him 
by  Gregory  the  Great,  that  when,  on  an  incursion  of 
the  Vandals,  all  his  means  for  ransoming  prisoners  were 
exhausted,  he  exchanged  himself  with  the  son  of  a  widow, 
and  was  carried  away  into  Africa.  All  those,  too,  who 
devoted  themselves  to  this  mode  of  life,  strangers  who 
admired  him,  men  and  women  who  revered  him,  flocked 
to  Nola.  He  corresponded  with  all  the  great  men  of  the 
time,  and  was  looked  up  to  by  all  as  a  model  of  piety. 
Having  become  Bishop  of  Nola,  he  remained  there  till 


CHAP.  HI.]  ALMS.  315 

his  death,  the  guardian  of  the  grave  of  St.  Felix,  to  whom 
he  had  dedicated  his  life,  showing  himself  to  be  in  this 
respect  also  a  man  of  his  age  by  his  excessive  veneration 
of  saints  and  martyrs.  Melania  greatly  delighted  him 
by  presenting  him  with  a  piece  of  the  true  cross,  which 
she  had  brought  with  her  from  Jerusalem. 

Melania  remained  some  years  in  Ptome,  entirely  occu- 
pied in  leading  her  relatives,  and  whoever  else  came  in 
contact  with  her,  to  that  path  to  heaven  which  she 
believed  herself  to  have  found.  She  then  prepared  to 
return  to  Jerusalem,  and  this  time  not  alone.  It  was  a 
whole  colony  that  accompanied  her,  her  son  Poblicola, 
her  granddaughter  Melania  and  her  husband,  and  many 
others.  Before  they  started,  plentiful  gifts  were  distri- 
buted to  the  poor  and  to  the  hospitals,  and  the  cliurches 
were  liberally  remembered.  The  younger  Melania  set 
her  slaves  at  liberty,  and  bequeathed  her  property  in 
Spain  and  Aquitania  to  the  poor.  They  then  set  off.  It 
was  in  the  year  409,  one  year  before  the  conquest  of 
Eome  by  Alaric.  It  was  as  though  they  desired  to  save 
themselves  from  perishing  Kome,  and  what  they  gave  to 
the  poor  seemed  also  to  have  been  snatched  at  the  right 
season  from  the  "  Barbarian  Lion," 

The  party  went  first  to  Africa.  At  Tagaste,  Alyppius 
was  greeted,  at  Hippo,  Augustine.  The  elder  jNIelauia 
then  went  to  Jerusalem,  where  she  soon  after  died.  The 
younger  built  a  convent  at  Tagaste,  but  afterwards  went 
also  to  Jerusalem,  where  she  lived  on,  in  a  narrow  cell, 
for  fourteen  years. 

They  are  the  chief  personages  of  the  Western  Church 
of  those  times,  who  have  thus  been  grouped  before  us  in 
a  picture,  which  represents  the  piety  of  the  age  in  sharply 
cut  outlines.     Strange  as  much  of  it  appears  to  us,  we 


316        CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  iil 

must  still  confess,  that  they  were  in  earnest  about  Chris- 
tianity, that  they  were  sincerely  concerned  for  their 
salvation.  Even  from  the  bombastic  descriptions  of 
Jerome,  we  still  feel  something  of  that  ardent  love  which 
animated  them  and  moved  them  to  give  all  their  goods 
jfco  the  poor.  Jerome  tells  on  one  occasion  of  a  rich 
matron,  who  was,  on  her  way  to  church,  distributing 
alms.  The  poor,  standing  in  a  row,  received  her  gifts 
one  after  another.  When,  however,  an  old  womaji  who 
had  had  her  share,  ran  forward  and  placed  herself  again 
in  the  row,  she  received  from  the  giver  a  blow  on  the 
face  instead  of  a  second  gift.  A  Paula  or  a  Fabiola 
would  never  have  acted  thus.  When  they  distributed 
alms,  it  was  no  external  and  ostentatious  work,  but  done 
from  love.  They  gave  also  their  personal  services.  In 
their  convent,  Paula  and  Eustochium  trimmed  the  lamps, 
swept,  and  cooked  ;  in  her  hospital,  Fabiola  personally 
attended  on  the  sick.  We  cannot  help  admiring  the 
self-denial  with  which  Paulinus  distributed  all  his  goods, 
and  then,  when  the  Vandals  had  devastated  Nola,  ex- 
claimed ;  "  Lord,  I  do  not  grieve  for  gold  and  silver,  for 
Thou  knowest  where  all  mine  is ; "  and  the  composure 
with  which  Paula,  when  it  was  announced  to  her,  that 
all  her  great  property  was  given  away,  and  that  nothing 
was  now  left,  answered  only  in  tlie  words  of  the  two 
passages  of  Scripture :  "  What  is  a  man  profited,  if  he 
shall  gain  the  whole  world  and  lose  his  own  soul  ?  "  and : 
"  Naked  came  I  out  of  my  mother's  womb,  and  naked 
shall  I  return."  It  certainly  shows  what  a  new  world 
had  been  created  by  Christianity,  that  where  once  a 
Livia  and  a  Messalina  had  indulged  in  lusts,  a  Paula  and 
a  Eabiola  were  now  ministering  to  the  poor. 

Nevertheless,  all  was  no  longer  healthy ;  there  was  a 


CHAP,  raj  ALMa  817 

morbid  element  which  originated  neither  in  love  nor  in 
the  gospel.  An  unhealthy  state  of  mind  was  shown, 
when  Paula  left  her  daugliter  poor,  nay,  loaded  with 
debts,  and  obliged  in  her  turn  to  claim  the  charity  of 
others  :  and  when  she  left  her  children  in  Pioine,  standin^^ 
on  deck,  her  eyes  lifted  towards  heaven,  ^\•llile  her  little 
Toxatius  was  stretching  out  his  arms  to  her.  It  was 
surely  unhealthy,  to  name  the  chief  point,  to  forsake  the 
calling  directly  handed  down,  and  arbitrarily  to  choose 
another,  or  instead  of  justly  administering  property, 
without  setting  the  heart  upon  it, — which,  as  Paulinus  of 
Nola  rightly  observes,  is  difhcult, — to  give  it  away.  In 
all  the  proceedings  of  this  circle,  there  is  a  morbid  rest- 
lessness, which  is  indeed  perfectly  compreliensible  in  an 
age  when  everything  was  falling  asunder,  and  tlie  present 
afforded  so  little  satisfaction.  They  wandered  hitlier  and 
thither,  and  even  their  longing  after  the  sacred  places  was 
but  a  symptom  of  this  unrest.  Nor  could  tliey  find 
actual  satisfaction  even  then.  It  would  at  all  events 
have  been  more  productive,  more  satisfying,  to  their  love- 
craving  hearts,  to  have  retained  their  property  and 
administered  it  faitlifully  for  the  common  good.  Besides, 
let  whoever  chooses,  wilfully  close  his  eyes  against  the 
fact,  a  more  refined  selfishness  will,  upon  closer  inspec- 
tion, be  found  to  be  connected  with  such  self-sacrifice. 
The  unmeasured  panegyrics  of  Jerome  must  indeed  be  set 
to  his  own  account,  but  Jerome  would  not  have  praised 
aftei"  this  fashion,  unless  he  had  been  able  to  take  for 
granted  a  certain  amount  of  receptivity  for  such  encomiums. 
His  epistle  to  Pammachius  flows  at  last  into  a  kind  of 
begging  letter  for  liis  monastery  at  Bethlehem,  and  is 
certainly  calculated  to  dispose  Pammachius  to  giving ; 
and  what  interested  adulation  do  we  not  find  in  it!     He 


318        CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.      [book  in. 

calls  Pammachius  not  only  the  general  of  the  monks  in 
Rome,  he  exalts  him  not  merely  above  all  the  senators 
and  consuls,  but  also  speaks  of  the  quartett  of  piety  which 
the  family  of  Pammachius  has  set  forth,  and  sees  the  four 
cardinal  virtues  incorporate  therein.  Justice  in  Paula, 
prudence  in  Eustochium,  fortitude  in  Fabiola,  temperance 
in  Pammachius.  It  is  a  proof  of  not  only  the  vanity  of 
Jerome  himself,  when  he  says :  "  Blesilla  will  never  die 
in  my  books."  Nor  is  this  feature  absent  in  the  character 
of  Paulinus  of  Nola.  It  is  still  in  truth  the  proud 
Eoman,  handing  the  sportula  to  his  clients,  whom 
Paulmus  describes,  in  his  famous  discourse  "  On  the 
Treasury,"  and  not  the  simple  Christian,  giving  to  his 
brother  in  love,  whenj,  it  is  there  said :  "  Many  are 
expecting  thee  and  looking  eagerly  for  thy  arrival,  looking 
about  when  they  see  thee.  It  is  one  thing  when  thou 
pruyest  alone,  another,  when  a  multitude  trembling 
before  God,  pray  for  thee.  Thou  art  silent,  they  cry  out 
for  thee.  And  they  see  thee  and  rejoice  ;  they  find  thee 
and  salute  thee,  they  pray  for  thde  in  every  church, 
they  congratulate  thee  in  every  street,  they  keep  thee  in 
memory  with  thanksgiving  to  God  in  every  place,  and 
kiss  thee  though  absent,  when  they  kiss  their  hands." 
If  Paulinus  thought  by  such  a  description  of  the  gratitude, 
which  one  who  gives  alms  may  expect,  to  incite  to  alms- 
giving, it  is  allowable  to  infer,  that  he  was  not  himself 
far  from  entertaining  such  thoughts.  In  fact,  Paulinus 
was  very  well  pleased  with  the  encomiums  of  his  adorers, 
and  made  no  ceremony  of  sending  to  Severus,  who  was 
about  to  put  up  his  image  in  a  chapel,  as  though  he  was 
already  a  saint,  an  inscription  for  the  purpose.  This 
secret  self-approbation  is  the  necessary  result  of  alms 
having  become  a  meritorious  work.     The  simple  works  of 


CEAP.  m.]  ALMS,  319 

a  man's  own  calling  were  not  duly  esteemed,  hence  the 
works  of  a  self- chosen  renunciation  were  over- prized. 
Such  renunciation  is  in  truth  only  the  reverse  side  of  a 
worldly  life,  not  a  victory  over  it.  The  unnaturalness  of 
luxury  is  left  for  the  unnaturalness  of  an  exaggerated 
asceticism,  which  does  not  however  yield  inward  satis- 
faction, and  therefore  produces  this  need  of  excitement, 
which  we  find  in  almost  all  the  characters  described. 
Their  Christianity  impels  them  to  great,  to  admirably 
great  sacrifices,  but  tb  serve  their  brethren  constantly  and 
regularly  in  the  position  wherein  God  had  placed  them, 
was  not  even  recognised  as  a  duty.  Thus  a  Christian 
perfection,  as  then  understood,  was  attained,  but  not  the 
perfection  which  the  apostle  sets  before  us  as  the  end  to 
be  striven  for,  in  the  words  :  "  Whatsoever  ye  do  in  word 
or  deed,  do  aU  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  giving 
thanks  to  God  and  the  Father  tlirough  Him." 

Undeniably,  this  estimation  of  wholesale  almsgiving 
did  not  continue.  It  was  just  the  abundant  gifts  which 
flowed  from  Korae  to  Jerusalem,  through  the  agency  of 
Jerome,  for  the  support  of  the  monks  living  there,  which 
gave  occasion  to  Vigilantius  to  oppose  it.  His  work, 
which  is  only  known  to  us  from  Jerome's  evidently  very 
partial  refutation,  was  directed  against  the  over-estima- 
tion of  celibacy,  the  exaggerated  reverence  of  martyrs,  the 
vigils  held  at  their  graves,  and  against  those  very  alms, 
wliich  were  given  for  the  saints  at  Jerusalem.  He 
maintained  that  we  should  rather  feed  the  poor  in  our 
own  country.  He  also  declared  it  better  to  make  a 
reasonable  use  of  property,  to  manage  it  justly,  and 
gradually  to  apply  the  profits  to  the  poor,  than  to  sell 
it  and  give  away  all  at  once.  Jerome's  manner  of 
controversy  is  undignified.     When  he  has  no  reasons  to 


320        CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  m. 

bring  forward,  he  tries  to  replace  them  by  cheap  raillery. 
He  appeals  to  the  history  of  the  rich  young  ruler,  and 
defends  the  gifts  for  the  pious  at  Jerusalem  by  saying, 
that  it  is  better  to  give  to  these  poor  than  to  others, 
because  such  poor  as  are  not  themselves  godly,  cannot 
fulfil  the  words  :  "  They  will  receive  you  into  everlasting 
habitations."  Thus  the  final  point  is  again  a  regard  not 
to  the  necessity  of  those  who  receive,  but  to  tlie  reward 
which  he  who  gives  hopes  for.  For  the  rest,  the  irritable 
tone  of  Jerome  gives  reason  to  suppose,  that  the  work  of 
Vigilantius  had  made  an  impression.  Nor  did  the  refuta- 
tion of  Jerome  everywhere  find  favour,  his  friends  tried 
to  prevail  upon  him  to  mitigate  it.  The  attack,  however, 
left  no  mark  upon  the  prevailing  tendency  of  the  times, 
and  Vigilantius  was  soon  forgotten.  It  could  not  be 
otherwise.  He  had  not  perceived  the  deeper  cause  of  the 
disease,  and  had  fought  only  against  symptoms.  Hence 
his  criticism  could  only  be  petty  censure  of  single  out- 
growths, which  could  not  repress  the  development  as  a 
whole.  It  was  not  till  the  connection  between  faith  and 
love,  as  its  practical  proof,  was  rediscovered  at  tlie  time  of 
the  Eeformation,  not  till  men's  eyes  were  open  to  the  true 
perfection  to  be  striven  for  by  all  Christians,  that  a  just 
moral  estimation  of  earthly  possessions,  and  consequently 
of  alms  also,  could  be  arrived  at.  To  require  this  of 
Jerome  and  his  contemporaries,  is  to  drag  them  out  of 
their  times.  Let  us  then  judge  what  they  did  from  the 
standpoint  of  their  age,  and  we  cannot  fail  to  acknowledge 
that  they  did  truly  great  deeds,  and  that  in  these  times 
also  the  power  of  the  love  of  Christ  was  not  left 
untestified. 

Lastly,  it  will  not  be  without  interest  to  cast  one  more 
look  upon  the  epitaphs  of  the  period.     They  have  this 


CHAP,  m.]  ALMS.  321 

advantage  over  all  other  documents,  that  tlicy  bring  us 
into  most  immediate  contact  with  the  times.  We  have, 
so  to  speak,  the  persons  who  acted  before  us ;  we  see  them 
in  their  acts  and  dealings,  not  merely  the  most  eminent 
among  them,  not  those  only  who  fill  a  place  in  history, 
but  plain  and  simple  people.  The  older  inscriptions 
afford  us  indeed  but  little  information.  They  are  dis- 
tinguished, in  contrast  to  heathen  epitaphs,  which 
detail  all  the  merits  of  the  departed,  by  tlieir  great 
simplicity.  The  name,  age,  day  of  interment,  at  most  a 
short  expression  of  Christian  hope,  a  symljol,  tlie  fish,  the 
dove,  or  a  palm  branch,  is  all.  From  the  fourth  century 
they  are  fuller,  and  follow  the  ancient  custom  of 
eulogizing  the  virtues  and  merits  of  the  departed.  This 
affords  us  the  advantage,  as  we  have  said,  of  such  a  direct 
glance  into  Christian  lii^,  at  this  period,  as  no  other 
documents  are  capable  of  furnishing.  In  numerous 
epitaphs  then  of  the  time,  we  find  love  to  the  poor, 
benevolence,  abundant  almsgiving,  commemorated.  A 
certain  Junianus  is  called  a  "  lover  of  the  poor,"  and  liis 
wife  Virginia,  who  is  buried  near  him,  "  a  lover  of  the 
poor,  and  zealous  in  good  works." ^^  Another  married 
woman  is  also  designated  as  a  "  lover  of  the  poor."^^  We 
read  in  one  of  a  Christian  that  "  widows  and  orphans  had 
in  him  a  father,"  and  of  a  Christian  woman,  that  "  noble 
by  birth  and  rich  in  possessions,  she  was  the  mother  of 
the  poor."^^  "Charitable  to  the  poor"  is  a  frequently 
recurring  eulogium,^^  and  it  is  said  of  a  merchant,  "  lie 
was  a  refuge  to  the  wretched  and  a  haven  to  the  poor." 
At  the  same  time  he  is  praised  for  having  often  visited 
the  holy  places,  and  diligently  addicted  himself  to  prayer 
and  alms.^'  In  the  case  of  eminent  persons,  their  charity 
is  described  in  detail     "  The  poor  went  away  from  him 

X 


322        CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  III. 

happy,  the  naked  left  him  clothed,  the  prisoner  rejoiced 
that  he  was  ransomed,"  is  read  in  an  inscription  on  Bishop 
Namatius  of  Vienna,  who  died  in  the  year  522,^^  and 
upon  another  grave :  "  Devoting  all  to  the  stranger,  the 
widow,  the  prisoner,  he  went,  rich  through  pious  poverty, 
to  the  stars.""  The  thoughts,  too,  which  we  have  seen  to 
be  prevalent  in  these  days  concerning  alms,  the  motive 
from  which  they  were  given,  the  expectations  and  hopes 
connected  with  them,  are  also  reflected  in  epitaphs.  We 
read :  "  He  conquered  avarice,  which  is  wont  to  conquer 
all,"'^^  and  very  often  :  "  He  sent  his  treasures  before  him 
to  heaven,"  or,  "  He  sent  what  was  superfluous  to 
heaven."™  Of  Bishop  Hilar ius  of  Aries,  it  is  said  :  "  A 
priest  of  God,  who  preferred  the  love  of  poverty  to  gold, 
and  took  the  kingdom  of  God  by  force."  ^'^  On  one  occa- 
sion we  already  meet  with  the  formula  "  for  the  salvation 
of  his  soul."  One  Arenberga,  it  is  said  on  her  grave- 
stone, gave  liberty  to  a  slave  "  for  her  soul's  salvation." 

Thus  do  even  the  gravestones  show  us  the  cha- 
racteristic feature  of  the  age,  abundant  alms-deeds,  but 
with  a  view  to  the  reward  of  eternal  salvation,  thereby  to 
be  attained.  The  really  universal  view,  the  view  which 
had  penetrated  and  was  embraced  by  the  people,  was, — 
to  conclude  with  two  distinctive  expressions  of  it, — that 
which  Gregory  the  Great  announces,  and  the  Middle  Ages 
countless  times  re-echo :  The  poor  are  not  to  be  lightly 
esteemed  and  despised,  but  to  be  honoured  as  patrons, 
and  as  Eligius  exclaims :  "  Oh,  happy  poverty,  through 
which  the  heavenly  inheritance  is  gained !  Happy 
exchange,  to  receive  the  eternal  and  the  unspeakable 
happiness  of  reigning  for  ever  with  Christ  for  the 
transitory  I " 


CHAPTEE    IV, 

HOSPITALS. 

If  the  only  thing  effected  by  this  age  had  been  the 
creation  of  hospitals,  it  would  have  produced  a  grand 
result,  and  one  deserving  the  gratitude  of  all  future  ages. 
The  old  world  was  not  acquainted  with  hospitals. 
There  were  only  houses  for  the  sick,  for  slaves,  perhaps 
also  for  gladiators  and  for  the  array.  There  were  near 
the  temples  of  .^sculapius  houses  for  the  reception  of 
the  visitors,  who  resorted  thither  to  seek  for  themselves 
or  others  advice  in  sickness  by  dreams,  during  the  in- 
cubation of  the  god.  Such  a  one,  e.g.,  existed  near  the 
renowned  and  much  frequented  temple  of  ^sculapius  in 
Tithorea,  and  Antoninus  Pius  built  one  out  of  compassion, 
near  the  temple  of  the  Epidaurian  ^sculapius.  But 
these  were  only  hospices  for  shelter,  and  not  hospitals  for 
care  and  attendance.^  There  were  also  public  hospices 
elsewhere,  which  were  certainly  the  precursors  of  the 
Christian  hospital  For  the  hospital  at  its  first  appear- 
ance was  quite  as  much  a  house  for  strangers,  a  xeno- 
dochium,  a  hospice,  and  the  first  institutions  of  the  kind 
received  all  who  needed  an  asylum,  strangers,  the  poor, 
widows,  orphans,  the  sick,  till  by  degrees  there  were 
separate  institutions,  according  to  the  various  classes  of 
the  needy ;  and  thus  hospitals,  in  their  present  sense  of 
houses  for  the  reception  and  care  of  the  sick  and  infirm, 

823 


324        CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [bOOK  III. 

were  formed.  Still  the  separation  was  not  fully  carried 
orrt.  In  the  smaller  places  the  xenodochia  were,  as  a 
rule,  employed  for  various  purposes ;  and  even  in  the 
larger  towns,  where  there  were  already  several  institu- 
tions of  different  kinds,  the  separation  was  not  a  strict 
one. 

The  rise  of  hospitals  has  been  regarded  as  a  retrogression 
in  charity.^  It  is  said  that  they  arose  when  love  had 
waxed  cold,  that  they  ministered  rather  to  ostentation, 
than  to  simple  self-devoting  love.  This  is,  to  say  the 
least,  a  very  partial  judgment.  "What  is  true  in  it,  I 
have  already  taken  occasion  to  acknowledge.  Hospitals 
had  now  become  a  necessity,  and  were,  so  to  speak,  the 
spontaneous  result  of  the  circumstances  of  the  time. 
They  were  called  into  existence,  on  the  one  hand,  by  the 
extreme  amount  of  misery,  on  the  other,  by  the  institu- 
tional impulse  which  then  prevailed.  It  had  been 
possible  to  provide  for  the  small  number  of  strangers  and 
the  comparatively  few  distressed  persons  of  former  times. 
They  had  found  shelter  in  the  house  of  the  bishop,  in  the 
private  houses  of  members  of  the  Church,  or,  if  needed,  in 
inns,  where  they  were  provided  for.  When,  since  Con- 
stantino, the  number  of  Christians  rapidly  multiplied,  and 
distress  at  the  same  time  increased,  such  expedients  no 
longer  sufficed;  institutions  were  needed.  This  is 
palpable.  But  I  should  like  to  refer  also  to  the  other 
co-operating  moment,  viz.,  that  the  whole  period  had 
a  strong  propensity  to  institutions.  It  is  a  special 
characteristic  of  this  epoch  of  civilization,  that  everything 
becomes  institutional.  The  time  of  free  movement  is 
past ;  everything  is  organized,  comprised  in  appointed 
forms,  and  indeed,  because  vital  power  is  lacking,  more  in 
the  way  of  force  than  of  free  development.     Let  us  only 


CHAP.  IT.]  HOSPITALS.  325 

remember  what  we  have  seen  to  he  the  ease  in  the 
organization  of  labour.  In  an  age  in  wliich  the  bakers, 
butchers,  etc.,  formed  settled  corporations,  institutions,  that 
is,  so  to  speak,  for  the  maintenance  of  the  public,  it  is  the 
more  explicable,  that  charity  also  should  become  institu- 
tional. If  this  may  be  in  a  certain  sense  a  retrogi-ession, 
compared  with  the  time  in  which  there  was  no  need  of 
institutions,  it  is  in  another  sense  a  progress — a  progress 
never  again  lost  to  mankind  and  to  the  Church.  For 
since  then  there  have  always  been  institutions,  hospitals, 
of  different  kinds,  and  just  during  the  periods  in  which 
love  has  vigorously  revived,  has  it  shown  itself  specially 
active  in  the  foundation  and  superintendence  of  such 
institutions. 

Obscurity  covers  the  beginnings  of  hospitals.  It  can- 
not be  said  when  or  where  the  first  xenodochiutn  was 
founded,  nor  what  thoughts  and  purposes  led  to  its 
foundation.  The  supposition,  that  the  difficulty  of  main- 
taining the  numerous  believers  whom  Constantine  re- 
leased from  the  mines  and  prisons,  was  the  occasion  of 
it,  is  quite  without  foundation.^  The  notion,  that  there 
were  formerly  in  the  bishop's  dwelling,  or  connected  with 
it,  special  rooms  for  the  reception  of  strangers,  and  that 
the  origin  of  the  xenodochium  was  merely  the  separation 
of  these  rooms  from  the  abode  of  the  bishop,  the  building 
of  a  separate  house  for  strangers,  may  far  rather  be 
entertained.  I  believe,  however,  that  this  cannot  be 
proved,  and  also  that  there  is  no  need  of  such  supposi- 
tions.* Quite  sufficient  starting-points  for  the  xenodochia 
are  to  be  found  in  the  hospitality,  which  was  always 
esteemed  an  eminent  Christian  virtue,  in  the  obligation  of 
the  bishop  to  receive  strangers,  which  continued  even 
after  the  existence  of  xenodochia.      Augustine,  e.g.,  still 


326        CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [boOK  III. 

entertained  strangers  at  his  table ;  also  in  the  inns 
(pandocheia),  which  had  long  existed,  and  which  it  was 
the  duty  of  the  deacons  to  visit,  for  the  purpose  of  giving 
assistance  to  certain  suffering  strangers.  Undoubtedly 
the  chief  occasion  lay  in  the  increasing  numbers  of  poor 
and  suffering  who  had  no  shelter,  for  the  xenodochia 
were  from  the  first  not  especially  intended  for  strangers, 
but  for  poor  strangers  and  the  poor  in  general,  so  that 
the  house  for  strangers  and  the  poor-house,  the  xenodo- 
chium  and  ptocheion  or  ptochotropheion,  were  quite 
synonymous." 

It  is  generally  considered  that  the  first  xenodochia 
were  already  founded  in  the  time  of  Constantine.  There 
is,  however,  none  that  can  be  certainly  proved  to  have 
arisen  during  the  reign  of  the  first  Christian  emperor.® 
The  first  perfectly  authentic  information  is  found  in  the 
efforts  of  Julian  to  promote  the  restoration  of  paganism 
by  the  erection  of  xenodochia  and  ptochotrophia  on  the 
part  of  the  heathen.^  He  commanded  Arsacius,  the  high 
priest  in  Galatia,  to  establish  a  xenodochium  in  every 
city,  "  so  that  strangers  may  experience  our  humanity,  and 
not  our  own  people  only,  but  whoever  is  in  need."  For 
means  he  refers  him,  partly  at  least,  to  public  property. 
Of  the  30,000  bushels  of  wheat  and  60,000  sextares  of 
wine  delivered  as  imposts,  one- fifth  is  to  be  applied  to 
the  heathen  worship,  and  four-fifths  to  such  humane 
purposes.  But  Arsacius  is  also  to  teach  the  Greeks — 
and  this  is  specially  deserving  of  notice — to  contribute  to 
such  works  of  humanity.  "  For  it  is  disgraceful,  when 
there  is  not  a  beggar  found  among  the  Jews,  and  when 
the  godless  Galileans  support  our  poor  as  well  as  their 
own,  that  our  people  should  be  without  our  help."  The 
efforts  of  Julian  himself  may  evidently  be  characterized 


CHAP.  lY.]  HOSPITALS.  327 

as  an  imitation  of  Christians.  Hence  there  must  have 
been  already  xenodochia  and  ptochotrophia  among  them, 
nay,  such  institutions  must  have  been  ah'eady  widely 
disseminated  and  their  efficiency  recognized.  We  must 
then  admit,  that  their  first  appearance  was  still  earlier, 
but  the  five-and-twenty  years  of  Constantino's  reign  offer 
a  sufficient  period  of  time  for  this.  On  the  other  side, 
institutions  of  this  kind  were,  even  in  the  times  of 
Julian,  somewhat  of  a  novelty.  It  is  just  during  the 
last  third  of  the  fourth  century,  that  we  hear  much  of  the 
foundation  of  xenodochia.  About  370  Basil  founded  the 
famous  hospital  in  Csesarea,  which  had  from  him  the  name 
of  Basilias,  and  this  institution  was  quickly  imitated  in 
all  the  towns  of  Caesarea.  Even  in  the  country  there 
were  already  ptochotrophia.^  Somewhat  later  Epiphanius 
testifies  to  the  existence  of  xenodochia  in  Pontus,  where 
they  were  called  ptochotrophia.^  In  Edessa,  about  375, 
there  seems  as  yet  to  have  been  none.  Eor  when  Saint 
Ephraem  came  to  the  town  at  a  time  of  famine,  and  saw 
the  great  misery  which  prevailed  there,  the  starving  and 
the  sick,  he  rebuked  the  Christians  for  their  hard-hearted- 
ness.  They  excused  themselves  on  the  plea,  that  they 
were  indeed  willing  to  give,  but  did  not  know  to  whom 
to  entrust  their  gifts.  Then  Ephraem  offered  to  administer 
their  charity.  He  had  three  hundred  beds  provided  in  a 
colonnade,  and  provided  for  the  hungiy,  and  even  for  the 
strangers  who  flocked  into  the  town.'"  In  Antioch 
there  was  a  tolerably  large  xenodochium,  when  Chry- 
sostom  was  preaching  there.^^  He  exercised  in  this 
sphere  also  his  loving,  and  at  the  same  time  practical 
mind.  He  employed  what,  thanks  to  his  economy  and 
simple  mode  of  life,  was  left  from  the  church  revenues,  in 
erecting  two  hospitals  at  Constantinople.^^     In  Ephesus 


328        CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  III. 

Bishop  Brassianus,  whose  episcopal  dignity  gave  occasion 
to  long  discussions  in  the  Council  of  Chalcedon,  founded, 
when  he  was  a  presbyter,  a  hospital  with  eighty  beds.^^ 
At  this  very  Council  of  Chalcedon  (451),  this  institution 
appears,  in  a  canon  regulating  the  position  of  clergymen 
in  houses  for  strangers  or  the  poor,  as  one  generally 
disseminated  and  regularly  met  with,  at  least  in  the 
East.^^ 

It  then  spread  from  the  East  to  the  West.  Even  the 
reception  into  Latin  of  the  titles  xenodochium  (also 
senodochium,  sinodochium)^^  and  nosocomium,  which  were 
not  till  afterwards  replaced  by  hospitium  and  hospitale, 
points  to  this  origin.  The  first  hospitals  in  the  West  are 
the  house  for  the  sick  founded  by  Eabiola  in  Eome,  and 
the  house  for  strangers  founded  in  Portus  by  Pammachius. 
Paulinus  of  Nola  established  in  that  town  a  house  for 
strangers  in  connection  with  a  monastery.  Thus  it  was 
the  circle  dependent  on  Jerome,  and  connected  through 
him  with  the  East,  that  "  transplanted,"  as  he  expresses 
it,  "  this  twig  of  the  terebinth  of  Abraham  to  the  Ausonian 
shore."  ^®  The  institution  does  not  appear  to  have  spread 
very  rapidly  in  the  West.  In  the  time  of  Ambrose  there 
were  still  no  xenodochia  in  Milan ;  Augustine  on  one 
occasion  describes  them  as  quite  a  novelty.  He  himself 
induced  Leporius,  a  presbyter  who  lived  a  monastic  life 
with  him,  to  build  one  in  a  garden  belonging  to  him.^^ 
In  Eome,  Pope  Symmachus  (498-514)  built  abodes  for 
the  poor  near  three  churches,  and  Pelagius  Ii.,  a 
ptochium ;  while  Eelisarius,  the  general  of  Justinian, 
founded  and  endowed  a  large  xenodochium  in  Eome.'^ 
In  Gaul  the  Council  of  Orleans  (549)  is  acquainted  with 
xenodochia  in  the  towns.  There  was  especially  a  large 
institution  of  the  kind  at  Lyons.^*     From  the  letters  of 


CHAP.  IV.]  HOSPITALS.  329 

Gregory  the  Great,  we  obtain  the  impression,  that  in  his 
time  at  least  there  was  a  large  number  of  liospitals  in 
Italy.  He  mentions  such  in  Naples,  in  Sicily  and 
Sardinia,  and  when  we  -see,  that  several  of  those  in  Sicily 
were  in  the  unimportant  see  of  the  Bishop  of  Cngliari, 
we  may  well  conclude,  that  the  institution  had  then  taken 
root  in  the  West  also,  and  that  a  home  for  strangers  and 
the  poor,  a  hospital,  was  there  also  reckoned  among  neces- 
sary ecclesiastical  arrangements.^^  They  could  not  indeed 
be  as  yet  of  as  splendid  a  form  in  the  West  as  in  the  East. 
Dr.  Lange  reckons  in  Constantinople  thirty-five  hospitals 
of  all  kinds,^^  and  the  legislation  of  Justinian  shows 
us,  how  fully  developed  the  life  of  such  institutions 
then  was.  In  the  West,  so  long  as  the  storm  of  the 
migration  lasted,  they  continued  to  be  both  less  numerous 
and  simpler  ;  they  there  produced  very  specially  ha})py 
results,  and  were  still  more  amply  developed  under  the 
new  German  forms  of  government. 

As  we  have  already  remarked,  the  institutions  in  their 
earlier  days  combined  various  objects.  They  were  in 
general  asylums  for  the  needy  and  homeless  of  every 
kind.  In  them  strangers  found  a  shelter,  beggars  a 
maintenance,  the  sick  care  and  attendance.  Even  the 
different  designations,  which  seem  to  refer  them  to  special 
branches  of  charity,  did  not  exclude  the  assistance  of 
other  kinds  of  distress.  The  homes  for  strangers  were 
also  homes  for  the  sick  and  poor,  and  vice  versa.  In 
Fabiola's  house  for  the  sick,  the  poor  also  were  received, 
and  in  that  of  Pammachius  for  strangers,  the  sick  also. 
Chrysostom's  homes  for  strangers  were  at  the  same  time 
houses  for  the  sick.  The  legislation  of  Justinian  sliows, 
even  by  the  multiplicity  of  their  names,  the  many-sided 
development  of  the  institutions.     We  there  find  Xeno- 


330        CHRISTIAN  CHAHITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHUECH.       [book  III. 

dochia  (houses  for  strangers),  Nosocomia  (houses  for  the 
sick),  Cherotrophia  (houses  for  widows),  Orphan otrophia 
(Orphanages),  Brephotrophia  (houses  for  the  rearing  of 
little  children,  whether  bereaved  of  friends  or  foundlings), 
Gerontocomia  (houses  for  the  aged).  A  house  of  the 
latter  kind  was  founded,  besides  others,  by  Narses,  in 
Constantinople.  John  the  Almoner  instituted,  in  various 
quarters  of  tlie  town  of  Alexandria,  besides  the  Xeno- 
dochia  and  Nosocomia  it  already  contained,  seven  houses 
for  the  reception  of  poor  lying-in  women,  in  which  they 
might  find  beds  and  necessary  food  and  attendance.^^ 
Justinian  built  in  Constantinople  a  house  for  the  recep- 
tion of  fallen  women,  called  a  home  of  penance.^^  This 
was  not,  however,  like  the  Magdalene  hospitals  of  our 
dnys,  an  asylum  and  an  institution  for  improvement,  but 
on  the  contrary,  a  conventual  institution  of  discipline, 
females  in  general  being  in  those  times  often  accustomed 
to  undergo  their  punishment  not  in  prisons  but  in  con- 
vents. For  the  rest,  it  is  going  too  far  to  infer,  from  the 
occasional  mention  of  the  blind,  the  dumb,  and  the 
insane  in  hospitals  and  monasteries,  that  there  were  there 
already  institutions  for  the  blind,  houses  for  the  deaf  and 
dumb,  and  asylums  for  the  insane.  At  all  events,  such 
were  also  received  and  cared  for  by  the  monks.  Theo- 
doret  relates  of  the  monk  Thalassius,^'*  that  he  assembled 
about  him  blind  beggars,  and  taught  them  to  praise  God, 
and  solicited,  from  all  who  came  to  visit  him,  contribn- 
tious  to  supply  the  blind  with  necessaries.  The  insane 
were  also  received  in  the  monasteries  on  the  island  of 
Tabennpe  in  the  Nile;^^  but  there  were  as  yet  no  special 
institutions  for  their  reception. 

The  means  for  maintaining  these  institutions  flowed 
from  various  sources.     If  the   institution  was  a  direct 


CHAP.  IV.]  HOSPITALS.  331 

establishment  of  the  Church,  the  revenues  of  the  Church 
were  applied  to  its  support.  In  Antioch,  Chrysostom 
reckons  the  keeping  up  of  the  xenodochium  and  the 
maintenance  of  the  sick  received  into  it  as  among  the 
burdens  which  the  church  bears,  as  well  as  the  support 
of  the  poor  whose  names  were  on  the  Matricula."^  In 
Alexandria,  John  the  Almoner  appointed  regular  deliveries 
of  corn  from  the  revenues  of  the  Church,  for  the  supply 
of  the  hospitals.^^  If  private  individuals  founded  an 
hospital,  they  also  endowed  it  with  either  funds  or  landed 
property.  Basil  solicited  and  obtained  from  the  rich  of 
his  church  means  for  the  maintenance  of  the  Basilias. 
Pammachius,  Fabiola,  Paulinus  of  Nola,  and  other  founders 
of  homes  for  the  sick  and  for  strangers,  gave  the  sums 
required  out  of  their  private  property.  To  this  was 
added  the  gifts  of  Christian  people,  which  flowed  in 
abundantly.  Special  collections  also  occur.^^  At  first 
the  State  also  seems  to  have  participated  in  the  main- 
tenance of  the  hospitals.  At  least  a  law  of  the  ICmperor 
Gratian  of  the  year  382  reckons  the  reparation  of  the 
hospitals  among  the  munera  sordida.  But  this  already 
fell  through  under  Valentinian.^^  The  xenodochia  and 
all  kindred  institutions  are,  from  his  time  onwards,  treated 
as  matters  purely  ecclesiastical,  and  entirely  under  the 
management  of  the  Church,  and  the  State  confines  itself 
to  protecting  and  fostering  these  institutions  by  legisla- 
tion. The  same  privileges  which  the  Church  possessed 
were  now  accorded  to  the  institutions.  Their  presidents 
had  the  same  immunities  as  clerics,  the  institutions  them- 
selves the  rights  of  moral  individuals,  including  therefore 
the  right  of  acquiring  property  and  receiving  legacies. 
Specially  important  was  the  enactment,  that  in  case  any 
one  had,  in  his  will,  left  orders  for  the  building  of  an 


332        CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHHIICH.       [book  III. 

hospital,  and  his  heirs  did  not  execute  them  within  the 
space  of  a  year,  the  bishop  of  the  place  was  empowered 
himself  to  undertake  the  building,  and  arranging,  without 
being  bound  by  any  dispositions,  that  the  testator  might 
have  made  concerning  the  administration  of  the  hospital, 
the  appointment  of  officials,  etc. 

Besides,,  whatever  authority  the  testator  might  have 
given  to  his  heirs  with  respect  to  the  foundation  and 
management  of  the  institution,  the  rights  due  to  the 
bishop  were  in  no  wise  to  be  prejudiced.  The  chief 
superintendence  of  all  the  benevolent  institutions  of  his 
diocese  was  allotted  to  the  bishop,  whether  they  were 
directly  founded  by  the  Church,  or  founded  and  endowed 
by  private  individuals.  It  was  he  who  nominated  the 
officials,  the  xenodochi,  ptochotrophi,  orphanotrophi,  had 
the  supervision,  took  care  that  the  institution  fulfilled 
the  ends  for  which  it  was  appointed ;  it  was  to  him  that 
accounts  were  delivered,  and  by  him  that  jurisdiction  was 
exercised.  The  letters  of  Gregory  give  us  a  glance  into 
the  care  devoted  by  conscientious  ecclesiastical  superiors 
to  these  institutions.  How  great  is  his  anxiety  for  the 
xenodochia,  not  only  in  the  episcopal  see  proper  of  Rome, 
but  also  in  the  wider  sphere  in  which  the  sovereign  posi- 
tion of  the  Bishop  of  Rome  was  already  acknowledged. 
His  letters  contain  copious  directions  of  the  kind  to  the 
defensores  by  whom  he  exercises  the  oversight  of  the 
property  of  the  Romish  Church,  and  also  already  of  the 
bishops.  In  Sardinia  a  xenodochiura  has  fallen  into 
decay,  he  orders  its  restoration.  In  Naples  a  certain 
Isidorus  has  left  a  legacy  for  the  building  of  a  xenodo- 
chium.  The  defensor  is  to  see  that  the  will  is  carried 
out.  If  the  means  are  insufficient  for  the  building  of  a 
separate    xenodochium,  the  legacy  is  to  devolve  to  the 


CHAP.  IV.]  HOSPITALS.  333 

already  existing  xenodoclnum  of  St.  Theodore.  In  Cag- 
liari  the  accounts  of  various  xenodochia  of  the  bishopric 
have  not  been,  as  formerly,  brought  before  the  bishop. 
He  is  to  take  care  that  this  is  done  regularly.  He  is 
also  to  give  heed,  that  such  men  are  placed  over  the 
xenodochia  as  have  been  found  worthy  by  their  lives, 
their  morals,  and  their  diligeuce.^*^  The  Church  knew 
what  a  treasure  it  possessed  in  the  hospitals,  and  what 
assistance  they  had  afforded  during  the  fearful  times  of 
distress  which  had  overwhelmed  the  West.  But  for  them, 
it  would  have  been  still  less  possible  to  get  the  mastery 
over  the  abounding  misery.  How  many,  whom  the 
troubles  of  the  times  had  driven  from  house  and  home, 
found  here  a  shelter;  how  many  sick  and  maimed,  who 
would  have  perished  in  the  streets,  found  loving  attend- 
ance ;  to  how  many  starving  was  food  dispensed ;  to  how 
many  naked,  raiment ;  all  knew  that  here  there  was  a 
place  of  refuge  for  all.  "  The  door  of  this  house  is  open 
to  all,"  are  the  words  of  an  inscription  found  in  Africa, 
which  had  probably  stood  over  a  xenodochium.^'  N"ay, 
when  the  storm  of  an  irruption  of  barbarians  raged  over 
the  country,  when  towns  and  villages  lay  in  ashes,  the 
houses  of  mercy  were  certainly  the  first  to  rise  again 
from  the  ruins.  A  true  shepherd  of  the  flock  would 
rebuild  "  the  house  of  the  Christian  poor  "  before  his  own, 
and  when  the  storm  had  passed,  these  houses  were,  as 
well  as  the  churches,  the  centres  about  which  the  flock 
could  assemble.^^  In  the  East  they,  together  with  the 
whole  Church,  were  ossified ;  in  the  West  there  was  still 
a  rich  development  before  them  ;  they  were  there  destined 
to  become  for  centuries  the  special  vehicles  of  charit}', 
and  we  shall  hereafter  see  how  this  development  had  now 
already  begun. 


334        CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [booK  III. 

Our  information  is  not  sufficient  to  afford  a  correct 
picture  of  the  arrangements  of  the  xenodochia.  These 
undoubtedly  differed,  according  to  the  size  and  purpose 
of  the  institution.  There  were  smaller  institutions,  such 
as  the  houses  in  large  towns,  called  diakonia,  and  after- 
wards matriculae,  where  the  deacons  provided  for  the  poor 
of  the  district ;  and  there  were  larger,  up  to  those  which 
comprised  several  buildings.  The  Basilias  in  Csesarea  is 
described  as  a  town  before  the  town.  In  the  centre  was 
a  church,  round  it  a  large  number  of  single  houses, 
arranged  in  due  form  in  streets,  some  being  for  the  recep- 
tion of  the  sick  and  needy  of  various  kinds,  others  for 
the  servants  and  officials,  others  for  workshops,  where  all 
that  was  required  for  the  institution  was  prepared  by 
workmen  of  its  own.^^  We  no  longer  possess  representa- 
tions of  a  xenodochium  of  this  time,  still  remains  are  in 
existence  of  some,  though  certainly  of  only  such  as  served 
as  asylums  for  the  reception  of  pilgrims,  and  were  in 
connection  with  churches  situated  near  sacred  places  and 
famous  shrines,  and  these  enable  us  to  form  an  image  at 
least  of  them.  In  Central  Syria  two  such  buildings 
have  lately  been  discovered.  One  of  these  is,  according  to 
the  inscription  on  its  portal,  a  Pandocheion  (asylum  for 
pilgrims),  consecrated  on  the  22nd  July  479.  In  Deir 
Sem'an,  where  a  monastery  of  St.  Simon  Stylites,  in 
which  was  stiU  shown  the  pillar  upon  which  the  saint 
spent  whole  years,  attracted  many  pilgrims.  Still  larger 
is  a  Pandocheion  in  Turamin.  It  is  a  stately  building, 
directly  connected  with  the  church,  surrounded  on  three 
sides  by  a  colonnade.  It  contains  on  each  of  its  two 
stories  a  large  hall,  evidently  for  the  reception  of  pil- 
grims.^* If  small  Syrian  places  can  show  such  asylums 
for  pilgrims,  we  may  imagine  that  the  xenodochia  and 


CHAP.  IV.]    .  HOSPITALS.  335 

hospitals  of  the  larger  towns,  at  least  many  of  them, 
must  have  been  large  and  stately  buildings.  As  the  age 
deliglited  in  a  profusion  of  decoration  in  its  magnificent 
ecclesiastical  buildings,  so  too  did  those  which  served  the 
purposes  of  charity  testify  to  the  wealth  and  power  now 
attained  by  the  Church. 

But  it  is  the  personal  attendants  that  have  most  inte- 
rest for  us.  Besides  the  physicians,  of  whom  the  noso- 
comia  at  least  had  several  of  their  own,  many  attendants 
were,  of  course,  required  for  various  services.  These 
were,  partly  at  least,  hired.  One  class  of  them  was  the 
so-called  Parabolani  or  Parabalani,  who  also  played  a  not 
very  creditable  part  in  the  ecclesiastical  history  of  the 
times,  being  more  frequently  the  strong  guard  of  tyran- 
nical bishops,  and  interposing  with  their  fists  in  the 
dealings  of  synods,  as  e.g.  at  the  so-called  Eobber-synods. 
This  gives  no  attractive  picture  of  their  agency ;  they 
appear  as  rough  and  excited  fanatics.  They  are  pro- 
bably the  same  that  are  called  "  leaders  "  in  the  descrip- 
tion of  the  Basilias,^^  and  their  duty  was  to  seek  out  the 
sick  and  suffering,  to  lead  them  into  the  hospitals,  and 
then  attend  on  them  while  there.  They,  like  the  Copiates, 
the  buriers  of  the  dead,  belonged  to  the  clerical  body,  as 
its  lowest  order.  There  were  hundreds  of  them.  In 
Alexandria,  Theodosius  ii.,  416,  reduced  their  numbers  to 
five  hundred,  on  account  of  the  disturbances  they  had 
excited  at  the  Eutychian  controversy,  and  placed  them 
under  the  supervision  of  the  imperial  prefect.  Two  years 
later  their  number  was  again  raised  to  six  hundred.  "We 
may  hence  conclude,  that  the  numbers  of  those  who  were 
received  into  charitable  institutions  was  very  considerable. 

Certainly  the  Parabolani  were  not  the  only  personal 
attendants.     In  the  West  there  seem  to  have  been  no 


336        CHRISTIAN  CTTABITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [boOK  III. 

Parabolani.  We  frequently  meet  also  with  those  who 
attended  gratuitously  on  the  sick  and  poor.  We  have 
already  heard  this  of  Fabiola,  and  Theodoret  tells  us  the 
same  of  the  Empress  Placilla,  the  wife  of  Theodosius  the 
Great.  She  went  herself  into  the  hospitals,  made  the 
beds  of  the  poor,  gave  them  their  food,  and  waited  on 
them  like  a  maid-servant.  When  remonstrated  with  on 
this  account,  she  replied  :  "  If  the  Emperor  distributes 
money,  I  will  willingly  do  this  for  those  from  whom  he 
received  the  Empire."  ^^  Similar  examples  frequently 
occur.  There  were  also  those,  who  sought  to  make 
amends  for  their  former  sinful  lives  by  serving  in 
hospitals.^  Or  the  intention  was  to  lead  in  them  a 
monkish  and  ascetic  life. 

The  close  connection  between  the  xenodochia  and 
monachism  is,  moreover,  worthy  of  remark.  It  was  just 
the  teachers  who  promoted  monachism,  who  were  also  the 
cherishers  and  promoters  of  xenodochia,  viz,  liasil  and 
Chrysostom  in  the  East,  and  Jerome  in  the  West.  The 
circle  of  ascetically  living  men  and  women  assembled 
around  Jerome,  and  the  persons  connected  with  them 
■were  just  those  who  transplanted  the  institution  to  the 
West.  The  xenodochia  were  often  combined  with 
monasteries  or  were  themselves  a  kind  of  monasteries. 
We  are  often  unable  to  decide  whether  a  monastery  or  a 
xenodochium  is  before  us.  A  sign  of  this  similarity  is 
found  in  a  story  told  by  Palladius  of  two  brothers,  both 
rich,  who  resolved  to  lead  an  ascetic  life.  The  one  gave 
all  his  money  at  once  to  the  poor,  the  churches  and 
monasteries,  learnt  a  handicraft  and  lived  as  a  monk. 
The  other  built  "  a  monastery  "  with  his  money,  in  which 
with  certain  brothers,  he  received  the  poor,  attended  to 
the  sick,  provided  for  the  aged  and  fed  the   poor.     The 


CHAP.  IV.]  ALMS.  337 

monks  were  contending  together  as  to  which  had  done 
best.  But  St.  Pamleo  decided :  They  are  both  equal,  for 
the  one  has  fulfilled  the  saying  of  our  Lord  :  "  Sell  all 
that  thou  hast,  and  give  to  the  poor ;  "  the  other  is  like  the 
Lord,  who  says :  "  I  came  not  to  be  ministered  unto,  but 
to  minister."^  The  xenodochium  of  Paulinas  of  Nola 
and  that  of  Severus,  mentioned  by  him,  were  very  like 
monasteries.^®  We  may  certainly  accept  it  as  a  fact,  tliat 
both  the  male  and  female  attendants  in  hospitals  (not  to 
mention  those  who  were  properly  speaking  its  servants) 
led  a  monastic  life.  This  applies  especially  to  the  West, 
where,  as  far  as  I  see,  the  monastic  elenient  was  stronger 
in  the  hospitals  than  it  was  in  the  East,  with  which  is 
connected  the  circumstance,  that  there  were  tliere  no 
Parabolani.  Gregory  the  Great  expressly  requires,  that 
such  only  should  be  chosen  as  presidents  of  the  hospitals, 
as  were  "  religiosi,"  i.e.  as  were  monks  and  nuns  ;  and 
when  he  adds,  that  this  is  to  be  the  case,  that  the  secular 
rulers  may  not  have  the  power  of  bringing  them  before 
the  judgment-seats,  and  of  thus  finding  opportunity  for 
plundering  the  goods  of  the  xenodochium,  this  addition 
only  discloses  another  strong  reason,  which  could  not 
but  lead  to  an  organization  of  personal  attendance  of  a 
more  and  more  monastic  kind.  We  find  here  the  germs 
of  the  ministrant  orders,  the  hospital  orders  of  the  Middle 
Ages. 

In  other  respects  too  did  the  development  of  tlio 
hospital  resemble  that  of  the  monastery.  As  the 
monasteries  were  at  first  intirely  subjected  to  the  regular 
supervision  of  the  diocesan  bishop,  so  too  were  tlie 
hospitals;  and  as  monasteries,  towards  the  end  of  this 
period,  already  received  certain  rights  and  privileges,  and 
became  more  independent  of  the  diocesan,  so  too  do  we 

Y 


338        CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  m. 

find  in  Gregory's  letters  the  first  example  of  the  exemption 
of  an  hospital.  Bishop  Synagrius  and  Queen  Brunhilde 
had  founded  a  xenodochium  in  Angustodunum.  The 
president  was  called  the  Abbas,  and  there  were  monacJii 
as  attendants.  Hence  the  xenodochium  was  a  hospital 
and  monastery  in  one.  Gregory  now  appoints,  that 
nothing  of  what  has  been  or  shall  afterwards  be  given  to 
the  xenodochium  shall  under  any  pretence  be  withdrawn 
from  it.  The  abbot  is  to  apply  all,  according  to  his 
discretion,  to  the  purpose  for  which  it  was  bestowed.  If 
the  abbot  dies,  none  other  is  to  be  obtruded  upon  the 
institution,  than  one  chosen  by  the  king  with  the  consent 
of  the  monks.  He  can  only  be  deposed  on  account  of  a 
crime.  In  this  case  the  bishop  is  not  to  pass  sentence 
alone,  but  only  in  conjunction  with  six  other  bishops. 

We  have  here  already  the  beginnings  of  the  subsequent 
development  of  the  hospitallers.  As  the  monasteries 
were  combined  into  close  orders  by  the  reception  of  a 
common  rule,  so  also  were  the  attendants  of  single 
hospitals  combined  into  an  order  of  hospitallers.  And  as 
the  monasteries  were  released  by  exemption  from  epis- 
copal supervision,  and  became  an  independent  power 
beside  the  hierarchy,  so  did  the  hospitallers  become  the 
self-dependent  vehicles  of  a  charity  independent  of  the 
more  and  more  stunted  relief  of  the  poor  by  the  bishop. 
A  compensation  was  formed  for  that  church  relief  of  the 
poor  which  was  now  extinct,  viz.  the  hospital,  and — by  its 
side,  and  in  manifold  combination  with  it — the  monastery. 


CHAPTEE   V. 

MONASTERIES. 

We  have  already  had  frequent  occasion  to  remark,  that 
the  charity  of  this  period  bears  upon  it  a  strongly  monkish 
and  ascetic  feature.  This  is  in  conformity  with  the 
character  of  Christian  charity  in  general  in  these  times. 
The  monk  became  in  increasing  proportion  the  ideal  of 
Christian  life.  A  monkish  life  was  esteemed  philosophic, 
angelic,  apostolic,  truly  Christian,  and  it  follows  tliat 
the  life  of  other  Christians  was  also  judged  according  to 
this  standard,  esteemed  the  more  higldy  the  nearer 
it  approached  to  the  monkish,  and  thought  the  less  of 
the  more  it  swerved  from  it  towards  the  secular  side. 
Hence  this  character  was  impressed  upon  charity.  But 
monachism  had  a  still  more  direct  influence  upon  the 
development  of  charity.  It  created  for  it  a  second 
centre ;  the  monastery  appeared  beside  the  hospital  as  its 
abode.  Hence  we  cannot  avoid  taking  a  nearer  survey 
of  monachism. 

The  beginnings  of  monachism  have  recently  been  made 
the  subject  of  much  discussion.  The  attempt  has  hecn 
made  to  remove  its  origin  and  formation  somewhat  fartlior 
back  than  formerly,  even  to  the  second  half  of  the 
fourth  century,  and  at  the  same  time  to  seek  for  all 
kinds  of  starting-points  in  prae-Christian  religions.  The 
Therapeutae,  the  servants  of  Serapis,  even  the  Buddhists 


340       CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  ni. 

and  Indian  Fakeers,  are  said  to  be  the  models  of  the 
Christian  monks.  Neither  of  these  questions  is  here  of 
concern  to  us,  for  however  early  or  late  we  may  place 
the  first  beginnings  of  monachism,  it  is  certain  that  in 
the  last  quarter  of  the  fourth  century  it  was  already 
a  power,  which  determined  the  type  of  Christian  piety ; 
and  even  if  such  prse- Christian  starting-points  did 
actually  exist,  they  would  at  most  have  been  able  to 
afford  an  occasion  for  the  rise  of  monasticism,  while  the 
real  inward  impulse,  which  caused  its  rapid  growth, 
which  drove  thousands  into  the  wilderness  and  into 
monasteries,  must  have  been  one  existing  within  Chris- 
tianity, and  lying  in  the  state  of  the  Church  itself. 

The  key  to  the  right  understanding  of  monachism,  as 
well  as  of  the  tone  of  Christian  piety  in  general  in  this 
age,  is  found  in  the  fact,  already  frequently  touched  on, 
that  the  leaven  of  Christianity  never  thoroughly  penetrated 
the  mass.  A  transformation  of  national  life  by  the  spirit 
of  Christianity  was  never  attained.  Now  it  is  a  law  of 
Christian  life  that  if  the  leaven  of  the  gospel  cannot 
penetrate  the  national  life,  it  will  draw  back.  The  more 
public  life  proves  itself  impenetrable  with  respect  to  the 
Christian  spirit,  the  greater  is  the  tendency  to  separation. 
And  this  was  then  also  the  case.  Those  who  were  in 
earnest  about  their  Christian  life,  began  to  retire  from 
association  with  the  rest,  whether  entirely,  by  going  into 
the  desert  or  the  monastery,  or  partially,  by  at  least  lead- 
ing a  more  or  less  isolated  life  within  the  Church,  Men 
despaired  of  pervading  the  whole  mass  with  the  leaven 
of  the  gospel,  and  were  contented,  that  there  should  be 
individual  saints  and  perfect  Christians.  With  this  was 
then  connected  a  second  element.  The  genuinely  ancient 
notion,  the    distinction    between    philosophers    and  the 


CHAP,  v.]  MONASTERIES.  341 

common  people,  the  aristocratic  feature  by  which  ancient 
ethic  is  predominated,  again  found  acceptance  in  Chris- 
tianity, and  in  entire  correspondence  with  ancient  ethics, 
the  contemplative  life  of  the  Christian  philosophers,  of 
the  monks,  was  esteemed  as  higher  and  better  than  the 
life  of  ordinary  Christians,  living  and  working  in  the 
world.  But  we  here  encounter  a  phenomenon,  wliich 
is  at  first  sight  a  very  strange  one,  viz.,  that  just 
monasticism,  which  flees  from  the  world,  should  create 
in  the  cloister  a  new  centre  for  charity,  from  which 
immeasurable  blessings  have  accrued  to  society ;  and 
that  the  circles  addicted  to  contemplation  should  become 
the  starting-point  for  a  new  development  of  labour  ;  that 
the  cloister  was  the  school  in  which  the  world  learned 
again  to  work. 

The  Eoman  Empire  was  now  externally  Christian, — 
much,  indeed  almost  everything,  was  wanting  for  it  to 
be  internally  so ;  indeed,  Christianity  did  little  more 
than  graze  the  skin  of  the  ancient  world.  What  we 
have  before  us  is  in  truth  only  a  turbid  mixture  of 
heathenism  and  Christianity.  Even  the  widely  dis- 
seminated custom  of  deferring  baptism  as  long  as  pos- 
sible, and  till  just  before  death,  is  characteristic.  Men 
desired  to  remain  as  long  as  possible  in  the  mongrel 
position  between  heathenism  and  Christianity,  to  shun 
the  obligation  of  being  entirely  and  fully  Christians,  and 
were  willing  rather  to  reserve  the  absolute  expiation  of 
baptism  for  the  effacement  of  all  preceding  sins,  thnn  to 
labour  for  their  sanctiticatiou  in  its  power.  For  a  long 
time  even  Christian  emperors  were  still  invested  with  the 
office  of  Pontifex  Maximm,  and  were  thus  as  Christians 
still  at  the  head  of  the  heathen  cultus.  When  consuls 
entered  into  office,  auguries  were  still  employed,  and  even 


342       CHRISTIAN  CHAEITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  hl 

in  Salvian's  time,  the  sacred  fowls  which  generals  took  to 
battle  with  them  for  the  purposes  of  the  oracle,  were  fed 
at  the  expense  of  the  State.^  Nor  was  the  case  different 
in  private  life.  There  too,  heathen  and  Christian  ways 
were  strangely  intermingled.  Prayer  was  now  made  to 
the  Christian  God,  but  if  He  did  not  help  immediately, 
and  as  desired,  recourse  was  had  to  the  ancient  gods,  and 
they  were  still  honoured  according  to  the  old  custom, 
though  only  from  fear  lest  they  perhaps  might  do  some 
mischief.  A  Christian  as  well  as  a  heathen  mother  would 
hang  an  amulet  round  her  child's  neck,  to  protect  it  from 
witchcraft,  only  she  liked  to  take  a  text  from  the  Bible 
or  Testament  for  the  purpose.  The  Synod  of  Laodicea 
had  even  to  forbid  the  clergy  to  practise  astrology,  or 
prepare  amulets.  The  undoubtedly  Christian  epitaph  on 
a  child,  of  the  year  364,  discovered  in  IJome,  designates 
the  hour  of  its  birth  as,  according  to  astrological  maxims, 
an  unlucky  one,  evidently  for  the  purpose  of  accounting 
for  its  early  decease.  On  the  birth  of  a  child,  even  in 
Christian  families,  a  number  of  candles  were  lighted,  and 
a  name  given  to  each.  The  child  then  received  the  name 
of  the  candle  which  burned  the  longest ;  this  was  said  to 
ensure  him  a  long  life.^  The  churches  were  frequented, 
favourite  preachers  were  applauded  by  the  clapping  of 
hands,  pompous  worship  was  delighted  in,  but  to  the 
multitude  it  was  but  a  spectacle  like  any  other.  The 
crowds  that  flowed  into  the  circus  or  the  theatre  were  as 
numerous  as  ever,  and  often  more  so,^  and  were  just  as 
passionate  as  formerly  in  their  partisanship  for  the  different 
colours  in  the  chariot  races.  The  gladiatorial  games  were 
not  abolished,  until  in  Eome  a  monk  once  rushed  in 
between  the  combatants  and  thus  sacrificed  his  life.  The 
true  faith  was    contended    for,   dogmatical    propositions 


CHAP,  v.]  MONASTERIES.  343 

excited  passionate  strife,  the  formula  of  the  then  prevail- 
ing orthodoxy  was  in  the  mouth  of  every  artisan  in  his 
stall,  of  every  female  seller  in  the  vegetable  market  in 
Constantinople.  It  was,  as  Theodoret  on  one  occasion 
complains,  as  if  our  Lord  and  Saviour  had  only  com- 
manded us  to  hold  certain  doctrines,  and  had  given  us  no 
precepts  at  all  concerning  our  life  and  walk.^  Chry- 
sostom  once  compares  the  Church  to  a  woman  formerly 
rich,  but  now  in  reduced  circumstances,  still  showing 
indeed  the  chests  in  which  formerly  lay  the  treasures 
which  she  had  long  ago  lost.^  Of  moral  amendment  little 
or  nothing  could  be  traced  in  the  masses.  Debauchery, 
covetousness,  deceit,  were  now  as  formerly  prevailing 
crimes.  "  Where  is  the  catholic  law,  in  which  they 
believe  ?  "  exclaims  Salvian  ;  "  where  are  the  examples  of 
chastity  and  piety  which  they  learn  ?  They  read  the 
Gospels  and  commit  lewdness  ;  they  listen  to  the  apostles 
and  intoxicate  themselves ;  they  follow  Christ  and  are 
plunderers ;  they  lead  a  life  full  of  all  unrighteousness, 
and  yet  boast,  that  they  possess  the  pure  law. "  ^  In 
Carthage  it  was  the  Vandals,  who  after  their  entry,  first 
abolished  the  utterly  shameless  debauchery,  and,  as  owned 
by  the  better-minded  Komans,  restored  chastity  and 
morals.  An  incredible  levity  possessed  the  people  ;  even 
the  fearful  chastisements  with  which  the  Empire  was 
visited,  were  unable  to  suppress  it.  The  theatre  was  the 
first  building  restored  in  Treves  after  it  had  been  burned 
by  the  Germans,  and  it  was  soon  filled  again  with  a 
joking,  laughing  crowd.  "  Eome  is  dying  and  laughing  " 
says  Salvian  with  bitter  irony ,^  and  we  are  even  more 
touched  than  by  this  saying,  by  the  melancholy  lament  of 
Chrysostom  :  "  When  I  think  of  this  frivolous  multitude, 
who  clap  their  noisy  approbation  of  my  words,  my  heart 


844       CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.        Tbook  in. 

is  deeply  grieved  ;    and  when  I  return  to  my  solitary 
chamber,  I  begin  to  weep  bitterly."^ 

Let  us  not,  however,  imagine  that  the  word  of  God  then 
bore  no  fruit.  There  were  besides  the  frivolous,  light- 
minded,  morally  perishing  multitude,  many  active  Chris- 
tians fully  in  earnest  about  their  Christianity.  The 
Church  has  never  been  richer  in  great  moral  characters, 
both  male  and  female,  than  then.  We  can  comprehend, 
however,  how  obvious  it  seemed  to  such,  to  separate 
themselves  as  true  Cliristians  from  the  corrupt  mass  of 
ordinary  Christians ;  we  can  understand  how  it  came  to 
pass,  that  in  an  age  in  which  the  contrast  between 
heathens  and  Christians  was  gradually  disappearing,  and 
the  former  impulse  to  an  earnest  Christian  walk  bad  been 
lost,  the  contrast  in  Christendom  itself,  between  perfect 
and  imperfect  Christians,  should  impress  itself  with  ever 
increasing  distinctness.  This  contrast  had  indeed  long 
existed ;  long  had  it  been  the  custom  to  distinguish 
between  commandments  binding  upon  all,  and  counsels, 
which  it  was  the  way  of  perfection  to  follow ;  long  had 
there  been  an  inclination  to  place  the  contemplative  above 
the  active  life,  to  prefer  a  meditative  to  a  practical 
Christianity.  It  was  now,  however,  that  these  notions 
first  attained,  so  to  speak,  a  palpable  form,  that  the 
severance  was  also  externally  effected  in  monachism,  that 
the  ideal  of  the  Christian  life  was  incorporated  before 
the  eyes  of  other  Christians,  in  the  monk  and  the  nun, 
and  that  even  those  who  did  not  go  into  the  desert  or  the 
cloister,  still  strove  as  far  as  possible  after  this  ideal,  and 
led,  even  while  living  in  the  congregation,  a  really 
separate  life.  Such  a  contrast,  however,  if  once  intro- 
duced, would,  by  an  inward  necessity,  be  step  by  step 
increased.     The  leaven  had  withdrawn  from  the  mass ;  it 


CHAP,  v.]  MONASTERIES.  345 

was  self-evident,  it  was  quite  in  order,  that  it  could  not 
be  pervaded  by  the  Christian  spirit,  that  it  was  and  must 
remain  the  corrupt  world.  The  fulfilment  of  the  duty  of 
Christianizing  the  life  of  the  people  was  entirely  given 
up,  nay,  it  was  no  longer  recognized  as  such  ;  that  tlie 
multitude  should  be  what  it  was,  was  regarded  with  in- 
.  difference,  nay,  to  a  certain  extent,  with  inward  satisfac- 
tion, because  this  dark  background  brought  into  more 
prominent  relief  the  holiness  of  the  few  perfect  Christians. 
It  was  just  the  soil  of  the  decaying  ancient  world,  that 
was  favourable  to  such  a  process.  In  monachism  also, 
as  everywhere  in  these  times,  ancient  and  Christian  ideas 
were  mingled.  Here  too  do  we  come  upon  a  reaction  of 
that  ancient  life,  which  was  repressed  in  the  earlier  times 
of  Christianity.  For  it  is  very  characteristic  to  tiiid 
monachism  called  philosophy,  and  the  admirers  of  a 
monkish  life  so  willingly  applying  the  analogy  of  the 
philosophic  life.  In  fact,  it  belongs  to  the  ancient  circle 
of  thought  to  place  the  contemplative  above  the  practical, 
the  active  life.  Aristotle  expressly  declares  dianoetic 
to  be  higher  than  ethic  virtue,  i.e.,  a  life  passed  in 
contemplation  superior  to  a  life  of  action.  True  happi- 
ness is  found  in  leisure ;  a  life  of  thought  is,  compared 
with  an  active,  a  busy  life,  godlike.^  Quite  in  accoril- 
ance  with  this,  the  contemplative  life  of  the  monk  was 
now  set  up  in  Christendom  as  angelic,  as  higher  than  that 
of  the  Christian  active  in  the  world,  while  according  to 
the  gospel  the  ideal  is  the  mutual  interpenetration  of  the 
contemplative  and  the  active  life,  the  union  of  pra3er 
and  work.  The  distinction  too  between  counsels  and 
commandments,  between  the  duties  of  the  perfect  and  the 
ordinary  Christian,  finds  its  starting-point  in  the  ancient 
view.     Ambrose  exactly  adopts  in  his  ethic  the  distinc- 


346        CHRISTIAN  CHAKITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  m. 

tiou  of  the  Stoics  between  perfect  and  medium  duties. 
He  regards  as  perfect  duty  what  the  Lord  required  of  the 
young  ruler,  viz.  to  forsake  all.^"  It  was  a  fundamental 
thought  of  ancient  ethic,  that  there  were  different  kinds 
of  virtue,  a  virtue  of  masters  and  a  virtue  of  slaves,  a 
virtue  of  men  and  a  virtue  of  women,  the  virtue  of  the 
multitude  and  that  of  the  wise,  while  the  gospel  on  the 
contrary  declares  all  these  distinctions  indifferent,  and 
knows  of  hut  one  duty,  one  virtue  for  all.  How  decidedly 
did  the  Church  in  the  first  centuries  oppose  this  aristo- 
cratic feature  of  the  ancient  world  !  While  the  adversaries 
of  Christianity  made  it  a  reproach,  that  artisans,  women, 
and  slaves  are  by  it  instructed  in  the  same  wisdom,  directed 
to  the  same  life,  the  apologists  boast  of  it  as  the  glory  of 
Christianity,  that  it  fills  even  the  poor  and  simple  with 
the  same  spirit,  adorns  them  with  the  same  virtue.  The 
ancient  spirit  was  now  reacting,  and  we  come,  in  the 
midst  of  Christendom,  upon  tlie  same  distinction  between 
Christian  philosophers  practising  a  more  exalted  virtue, 
and  the  masses  who  must  be  contented  with  a  lower, 
against  which  Christianity  once  contended.  From  this 
point  of  view  it  is  also  intelligible,  that  just  the  men,  who 
were  most  strongly  imbued  with  the  ancient  spirit,  who 
had  appropriated  the  culture  of  the  philosophical  schools, 
were  such  special  admirers  of  the  monastic  life.  To 
mention  only  Basil  and  the  two  Gregories,  whose  path  led 
from  the  schools  in  Athens  to  solitude,  to  the  monk's 
cell,  whose  whole  type  is  properly  a  combination  of  the 
philosopher  and  the  monk,  and  in  the  West  men  in  whom, 
as  in  Ambrose,  the  old  Eoman  spirit  can  be  so  strongly 
traced,  and  who,  not  in  spite  of  it,  but  because  of  it,  so 
energetically  advocated  the  monastic  life.  To  just  such 
natures  must  the  monastery  have  appeared  a  release  from  all 


CHAP,  v.]  MONASTERIES.  347 

the  misery,  the  nnnaturalness,  the  hoUowness  of  the  life  of 
those  times.  In  fact,  we  are  reminded  of  Rousseau's  flight 
from  civilization,  when  Jerome  depicts  to  Paramachius  in 
Eome,  how  charming  life  is  in  the  fields  of  Bethlehem,^^ 
or  when  Gregory  of  Nazianzus  reminds  Basil  ^^  of  the 
days  when  they  "revelled  in  privations,"  the  vigils, 
the  prayers  "  of  that  superterrestrial  and  incorporeal  life," 
that  community,  that  spiritual  harmony  of  the  brethren, 
who  were  raised  to  a  godlike  life.  We  get  a  deep  insight 
into  the  motives  which  then  drove  many  into  monasteries, 
in  a  narrative  which  occurs  in  the  Confessions  of  Avgnstine, 
of  two  attorneys  at  the  court  of  Treves,  who  in  a  walk 
come  upon  monks,  and  find  with  them  the  work  of 
Athanasius  upon  monasticism.  "  Tell  me,"  says  one  to 
the  other,  "  what  do  we  attain  by  our  efforts  ?  What  are 
we  seeking  ?  Why  are  we  serving  ?  What  better  hope 
can  we  have  than  that  of  gaining  a  closer  friendship  with 
the  Emperor  ?  And  even  if  we  do  so,  how  fragile  is 
fortune .'  Through  how  much  danger  are  we  striving 
after  greater  danger !  And  when  shall  we  attain  this 
object  ?  On  the  other  hand,  if  I  desire  to  be  a  friend  of 
God,  I  am  so  at  this  very  moment."  They  forthwith 
resolve  to  renounce  the  world  and  become  monks.^'^ 

In  fact,  it  was  freedom  that  was  sought  in  the  cell  of 
the  hermit  and  in  the  monastery,  freedom  from  the  misery 
of  a  decaying  world,  from  a  state  which  was  but  an 
institution  for  the  employment  of  force,  and  left  no  space 
for  free  activity,  from  a  society  in  which  only  deception 
and  appearance  bore  rule,  from  a  civilization  which  had 
become  hyper-civilization  and  was  therefore  unnatural 
It  was  this  that  drove  the  decurion  unable  any  longer  to 
bear  the  burden  of  taxation,  the  artisan  who  had  become 
the  slave  of  the  State,  the  impoverished  small  proprietor. 


348        CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [booK  III. 

nay,  even  the  aristocratic  and  wealtliy  Roman  educated 
in  the  schools  of  Athens,  into  the  cloister.  For  even  the 
possession  of  wealth,  even  a  liberal  education  was  in  this 
perishing  world  a  burden  which  men  sought  to  get  rid  of. 
He  who  built  a  cell  in  the  desert,  who  entered  a  monastery, 
was  released  at  a  stroke  from  the  whole  burden,  was  free 
from  all  bonds.  For  monachism  denied  on  principle  the 
whole  existing  order,  it  denied  the  State  and  marriage,  all 
social  and  civilized  life,  and  strange  as  it  may  seem,  it 
was  for  this  very  reason  in  a  condition  to  become  the 
starting-point  of  a  new  civilization. 

The  rise  of  monachism  set  a  seal  on  the  renunciation 
of  penetrating  the  entire  national  life  witli  the  Christian 
spirit.  Not  that  such  renunciation  was  consciously, 
though  it  was  actually  made.  It  is  quite  self-evident, 
that  an  avowedly  Cliristian  life  was  now  a  demand 
made  only  of  monks  or  of  those  who  lived  a  monki.'Jh 
life.  It  was  they  who  were  the  converted,  the  followers 
of  Christ,  the  religious  ;  they  who  lived  after  the  Spirit, 
who  were  the  special  militia  of  Christ,  contending  for  eternal 
life.  Others  were  indeed  Christians,  but  Christians  of  a 
lower  grade.  Christians  properly  so  called,  were  only  those 
who  had  renounced  the  world — widows,  virgins,  those  who 
had  taken  vows  of  chastity,  monks,  ecclesiastics.  We  need 
only  read  Salvian  to  be  convinced,  that  he  looks  upon 
these  as  alone  such.  A  separation  of  this  kind  must 
have  had  a  destructive  effect  upon  Church  life.  A 
Church  life  like  that  of  the  first  centuries  became  thereby 
impossible.  All  active  Christianity  exhibited  a  more  or 
less  monkish  impress,  separated  itself  from  ordinary 
Christians  and  thus  lost  its  influence  over  them.  Even 
so  zealous  a  favourer  of  monachism  as  Chrysostom  felt  it 
necessary  to  warn  the  pious  in  his  flock,  not  to  withdraw 


CHAP,  v.]  MONASTERIES.  349 

from  the  society  of  other  Christians,  whom  they  might 
influence  for  good." 

But  the  appearance  of  monachism  has  also  another 
side  ;  its  influence  was  not  merely  destructive,  it  was 
also  promotive  of  Christian  life.  The  monasteries  became 
its  home  and  hearth,  in  them  was  assembled  all  that  still 
remained  of  decided  Christianity,  to  recommence  from 
them  the  process  of  penetrating  national  life  with  the 
Christian  spirit.  The  proper  destiny  of  the  cloister  still 
lay  in  the  future.  Even  monachism  and  monastic  life 
can  only  be  understood  in  the  light  of  the  divine  purposes. 
The  ancient  world  was  now  impenetrable  by  Christian 
truth.  It  was  the  German  world  which  was  to  be  and 
could  be  a  really  Christian  one.  The  transmission  thereto 
of  Christianity,  and  in  connection  with  Christianity,  of 
the  ancient  culture  as  the  foundation  of  a  new  culture, 
was  to  be  effected  especially  through  the  co-operation  of 
the  monasteries.  The  hand  of  God  was  building  in 
them  the  fortresses,  in  which  Christianity  might  maintain 
itself,  when  the  Barbarian  deluge  should  overwhelm  the 
Eoman  Empire,  and  from  which  should  proceed  the 
Christianization  and  civilization  of  the  new  nations. 
Monachism,  whose  principle  it  was  to  flee  from  the  world, 
became  the  world-conquering  power,  and  all  that  Christian 
life,  of  which  the  old  world  was  deprived  by  the  cloister, 
turned  to  the  advantage  of  the  new  German  world. 

It  is  truly  a  strange  world,  that  we  get  a  glance 
of,  by  reading  the  history  of  the  fathers  of  monachism, 
the  description  of  the  life  of  Antony  ascribed  to 
Atlianasius,  Palladius's  Historia  Lausiaca,  the  Historia 
religiosa  of  Theodoret,  or  the  life  of  St.  Martin  by  Sul- 
picius  Severus,  and  his  Dialogues,  and  at  first  sight  we 
seem  to  have  before  us  anything  but  the  beginning  of  a 


350        CHRISTIAN  CHAEITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  m. 

new  development  of  Christian  civilization.  Everything 
seems,  on  the  contrary,  antagonistic  to  civilization,  nay,  to 
be  directed  towards  the  abolition  of  all  civilization,  of  all 
existence  worthy  of  human  nature,  while  all  that  is  put 
forward  as  Christian  life,  nay,  is  admired  and  honoured  as 
holiness,  as  a  godly  and  angelic  life,  has  not  the  slightest 
similarity  to  primitive  Christianity.  These  anchorites 
living  apart  from  all  men  in  deserts  and  forests,  in  caves 
and  leafy  huts,  these  recluses  who,  immured  for  life, 
receive  their  scanty  sustenance,  perhaps  a  handful  of 
barley,  through  a  small  aperture,  these  swarms  of  monks, 
men  of  uncouth  manners,  roaming  through  the  country, 
and  feeding  like  cattle  on  the  herbs  of  the  field,  make 
upon  us  at  first  a  revolting  impression.  Here  is  one  who 
has  carried  fasting  so  far  as  only  to  require  food  once  a 
week;  another  who  does  not  eat  his  barley  till  it  is  half- 
rotten  ;  this  man  sprinkles  his  food  with  earth  and  ashes 
to  make  it  less  palatable,  while  that  one  lies  all  day  long 
in  a  swamp  and  exposes  his  body  to  the  stings  of  insects. 
They  are  on  more  intimate  terms  with  the  beasts  than 
with  human  beings.  A  she-wolf  bears  one  of  them 
company,  a  chamois  selects  herbs  for  another,  that  he  may 
eat  nothing  poisonous.  St.  Martin .  commands  the  birds, 
who  are  catching  fish  in  a  pond,  and  they  fly  away ;  he 
rebukes  a  dog,  and  he  ceases  from  pursuing  a  hare. 
Miracles  everywhere  take  place,  the  strangest,  most 
fantastic,  and  at  the  same  time  most  purposeless  of 
miracles.  Especially  are  these  holy  men  constantly 
contending  with  demons,  who  wander  about  in  the  desert, 
sit  on  the  rocks,  and  annoy  men  in  their  homes.  St. 
Martin  even  delivers  a  cow  from  a  demon  who  is  riding 
her,  and  an  imperial  post-horse  on  whose  neck  a  demon  is 
seated.     But  we  should  be  dealing  very  unjustly  to  judge 


CHAP,  v.]  MONASTERIES.  351 

of  monachism  by  such  circumstances.  This  often 
tumultuously  fermenting  movement  clears,  and  monachism 
assumes  quite  a  different  appearance  in  a  well-ordered 
monastery,  in  a  society  of  monks  living  according  to  an 
appointed  rule.  Decidedly  as  we  must  reject  the  claim 
that  the  apostolic  life  is  here  realized,  we  cannot  still 
mistake  the  existence  of  a  certain  similarity  between  such 
a  brotherhood  of  monks  and  the  earliest  Christian  churches. 
We  here  again  meet  with  that  which  the  existing  churches 
no  longer  exhibited,  viz.  a  society  of  men  and  women,  all 
Christians  and  desiring  to  live  as  such.  However  much 
the  requirements  of  Christianity  might  in  several  points 
be  misunderstood  by  them,  they  were  still  in  earnest 
about  them ;  and  though  they  secluded  themselves  from 
all  who  did  not  belong  to  their  society,  there  was  still 
within  it  a  fellowship  of  love,  common  prayer  and  work, 
each  serving  the  whole  in  self-denial  and  obedience.  And 
these  monastic  communities  were  free  from  all  tlie 
hindrances  which  elsewhere* opposed,  as  insurmountable 
barriers,  the  development  of  a  Christian  life.  For  them 
this  whole  corrupting  civilization  had  no  existence. 
Within  the  walls  of  the  cloister,  it  was  possible  to  make 
an  entirely  new  beginning. 

Nowhere  did  this  new  beginning  come  forth  more 
illustriously,  than  in  a  department  of  moral  life,  most 
closely  connected  with  charity,  viz.  in  that  of  labour. 
The  monasteries  were  the  birthplaces  of  free  labour.  In 
them  was  felt  for  the  first  time  full  earnestness  concerning 
the  moral  duty  of  work  as  an  evidence  of  Christian  life, 
and  for  this  very  reason  are  they  of  such  vast  importance 
to  the  further  development  of  charity.  For  as  we  have 
often  had  occasion  to  remark,  and  as  Scripture  directly 
shows,  labour  and  benevolence    are    inseparably  united. 


352        CHRISTIAN  CHAEITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  in. 

Where  there  is  no  work,  there  will  be  no  energetic, 
permanent  exercise  of  benevolence,  and  it  is  in  this,  that 
work  first  fulfils  its  higher  moral  purpose.  It  is  Christian 
to  work  that  we  may  have  to  give  to  him  that  needeth. 

If  we  remember  the  economical  condition  of  the  Roman 
Empire  at  this  period,  we  shall  easily  perceive  that  free 
labour  could  not  thrive  in  it.  Where  all  was  force,  where 
the  Decurion  was  bound  to  his  office,  the  colonus  to  the 
soil,  the  artisan  to  his  collegium,  there  was  no  room  for 
free  labour.  The  monk  was  free.  The  State  indeed  did 
not  allow  every  man  to  become  a  monk.  When  harassed 
and  oppressed  peasants  and  townsmen  fled  by  thousands 
to  monachism  from  the  control  of  the  State,  it  was 
forced  to  interfere,  to  save  its  own  existence.  But  he 
who  had  once  become  a  monk  had  all  this  constraint  behind 
him.  In  the  monastery  was  to  be  found,  what  was  to  be 
found  nowhere  else,  a  place  for  free  work.  As  long  as 
monachism  appeared  only  in  its  first  irregular  form  of 
anchoritism,  work,  at  least  profitable  and  iiseful  work,  was 
out  of  the  question.  As  soon,  however,  as  a  regular 
monastic  life  was  formed,  labour  was  one  of  its  funda- 
mental ordinances.  As  the  quickly  perceived  moral 
dangers  of  solitude  led  to  the  gathering  of  isolated  monks 
into  monasteries,  so  did  the  dangers  of  idleness  impel  to 
work.  "  Be  always  M'orking  at  something,"  writes  Jerome 
to  Eusticus,  "  that  the  devil  may  ahvays  find  you 
employed."  In  Egyptian  monasteries  it  was  the  custom 
to  receive  none  who  would  not  bind  themselves  to  work, 
and  this  not  so  much  for  their  necessary  support,  as  for 
their  souls'  health.  ^^  And  a  proverb  much  in  use  was, 
"A  monk  who  works  is  troubled  by  one  evil  spirit,  an 
idle  monk  by  countless  ones."^^  "  Solitary  life,"  says 
Basil,  "  is  contrary  to  the  nature  of  true  love,  since  each 


CHAP,  v.]  MONASTEEIES.  353 

cares  only  for  what  himself  needs,  nor  will  such  a  one 
easily  perceive  his  faults."  In  his  rules  for  monks,  Basil 
already  lays  great  stress  upon  work.'^  "  It  is  among  the 
duties  of  a  monk  to  work."^^  Idleness  is  a  great  evil ; 
work  preserves  us  from  evil  thoughts.  We  are  not  to 
think  that  the  aim  of  a  pious  life  gives  countenance  to 
idleness  and  avoidance  of  work ;  it  is,  on  tlie  contrary,  a 
life  of  conflict  and  of  much  labour.  The  object  of  work 
is  certainly,  in  the  first  place,  to  earn  a  livelihood ;  still 
this  is  not  its  only  object.  We  work  to  please  God,  and 
that  we  may  fulfil  the  Lord's  command:'"  I  was  hungry 
and  ye  fed  me."  "  Every  one  must  in  work  keep  in 
view  as  his  object  the  support  of  the  needy."  ^^  Work  also 
must  have  its  appointed  order,  and  must  alternate  with 
prayer  and  singing  psalms.  Each  is  to  do  the  work  he  is 
fitted  for,  and  which  the  head  of  the  monastery  gives  him 
to  do.  None  is  to  go  from  one  thing  to  another,  none 
arbitrarily  to  give  up  his  own  handicraft."^  According  to 
locality,  such  work  as  the  material  may  be  easily  procured 
for,  and  as  will  find  a  ready  sale  in  the  neighbourhood,  is 
to  be  chosen ;  also  such  as  will  not  disturb  a  peaceful  and 
quiet  life.  Basil  esteems  the  weaving  of  simple  stuffs 
as  the  best ;  carpentry,  cabinetmaking,  and  forging,  also 
agriculture,  are  in  themselves  useful,  but  they  make  too 
much  noise  and  disturb  the  brethren.  Only  as  much  art 
is  to  be  employed  as  is  necessary  in  the  article  required, 
simplicity  and  cheapness  must  in  every  case  be  the  rule." 
If  we  may  consider,  as  we  may,  that  these  rules  of  Basil 
were  even  approximately  put  in  practice,  nay,  if  they  were 
probably  for  the  most  part  taken  from  what  was  already 
acted  upon,  we  have  before  us  a  society  of  free  workers, 
such  as  the  ancient  world  knew  not  of.  Though  at  first 
only  iu  small  circles,  secluded  from  the  rest  of  the  world, 

z 


354  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH,       [BOOK  III. 

the  New  Testament  ideas  of  work  are  here  realized. 
Work  is  done,  because  God  commands  it ;  each  perseveres 
in  the  work  of  his  own  vocation,  work  and  prayer  are 
combined,  labour  alternates  with  rest,  and  the  object  of 
work  is  not  the  merely  selfish  one  of  earning  for  oneself, 
but  also  that  of  serving  others. 

Elsewhere,  too,  do  we  learn,  that  the  monks  of  the  East 
were  workmen.  They  make  baskets,  sew  sacks,  weave, 
and  carry  on,  to  a  small  extent,  agriculture  and  horti- 
culture.^^ Chrysostom  describes  them  as  follows  :  — 
"Having  renounced  all  earthly  possessions,  they  use  the 
labour  of  their  bodies  for  the  support  of  the  needy.  They 
divide  the  day  between  prayer  and  handiwork.  They  put 
us  all  to  shame,  both  rich  and  poor,  when  they,  who  have 
nothing  but  their  hands,  earn  money  for  the  poor."^^ 
Theodoret  tells  us  of  the  monk  Theodosius  in  Cilicia,  that 
he  directed  those  who  came  to  him  to  work.  "  For,"  said 
he,  "  it  is  not  fitting,  that  they  who  live  in  the  world, 
should  support  their  wives  and  children,  bear  the  burden 
of  taxes  and  customs,  offer  the  first-fruits  to  God,  and 
assist  the  poor,  while  we  put  our  hands  in  our  bosoms  and 
live  upon  the  work  of  others."^*  In  the  East,  however, 
the  monasteries  did  not  become  a  civilizing  power.  The 
contemplative  tendency  was  there  stronger  than  the 
active.  Idle  meditation  and  fantastic  asceticism  got  the 
upper  hand.  Pillar-saints,  who  passed  whole  years  stand- 
ing on  a  column,  recluses  who  had  themselves  immured, 
anchorites  who  renounced  in  solitude  all  participation  in 
the  products  of  civilization,  here  passed  for  great  saints ; 
while  the  Western  monks  were  carrying  on  in  silence  the 
work  of  civilization,  clearing  forests,  draining  morasses, 
converting  barren  tracts  into  fertile  fields,  and  becoming 
the  instructors  of  the  young  German  nations.     It  was  in 


CHAP,  v.]  MONASTERIES.  355 

the  West  that  monachism  first  fulfilled  its  vocation,  it 
was  there  that  the  cloister  first  became  a  school  of  work. 
It  cannot  indeed  be  said,  that  work  was  made  more 
prominent  in  the  rule  of  St.  Benedict  of  ISTursia,  which 
prevailed  in  the  West,  than  in  that  of  Basil.  Western 
monachism  was  in  the  first  instance  a  growth  transplanted 
from  the  East  to  the  West,  but  it  there  found  a  different 
soil.  A  Gaul,  who  became  a  monk,  was  already  very 
different  from  an  Egyptian  or  a  Syrian,  and,  as  must  be 
well  considered,  the  tasks  set  before  monachism  in  the 
West  were  also  different.  Both  circumstances  are  brought 
forward  in  the  comparison  made  by  Sulpicius  Severus 
between  Eastern  and  Western  monachism.  With  a 
certain  amount  of  wholesome  humour,  he  dwells  upon  the 
fact,  that  the  Gaul,  with  his  often  derided  appetite,  cannot 
live  like  the  monks  in  Egypt,^^  and  brings  it  forward  as 
the  greatness  of  St.  Martin,  that  "  in  the  midst  of  the 
throng  and  in  the  company  of  people,"  he  did  just  as 
much  as  those  anchorites,  who  in  their  solitude  were 
hindered  by  nothing.^®  Western  monachism  was  from 
the  first  placed  in  the  midst  of  the  great  problems  of 
civilization.  While  the  East,  ossifying  in  Byzantinism, 
was  becoming  a  mummy,  and  monachism  was  accordingly 
stiffening  in  resultless  contemplation  and  unnatr.ral 
asceticism,  a  new  era  of  civilization,  with  new  duties,  was 
setting  in  in  the  West  with  the  entry  of  the  Germans, 
and  the  important  feature  in  Western  monachism  was 
just  the  fact  that  it  entered  into  these  duties  of  civilization. 
The  same  maxims  concerning  work  in  the  rules  of  St. 
Benedict  as  in  those  of  Basil,  could  not  but  be  carried 
into  practice  quite  differently  in  the  West  from  what  they 
were  in  the  East. 

On  the  first  appearance  of  monachism  in  the  West,  we 


356         CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [BOOK  III. 

meet  there  too  with  the  same  inclination  to  idle  contem- 
plation. Men  sought  in  the  monastic  life  a  wished-for 
opportunity  for  inaction,  and  to  be  supported  by  the 
charitable  gifts  of  others,  instead  of  earning  their  own 
living.  Scripture  was  appealed  to, 'and  idleness  was  given 
out  as  the  fulfilment  of  Christ's  command,  to  take  no  care 
for  the  morrow,  while  the  apostolic  rule :  He  that  will  nob 
work,  neither  let  him  eat,  was  set  aside  by  a  spiritual 
interpretation.  This  inclination  to  holy  idleness  is 
energetically  opposed  by  Augustine  in  his  work  On  the 
Work  of  Monies.  He  replies  to  the  monks,  who  appealed 
to  our  Lord's  words  about  the  birds  of  heaven,  that  they 
ought  then  neither  to  grind  nor  to  cook,  for  the  birds  do 
neither,  nor  ought  they  to  lay  up  in  storehouses.  He 
says  banteringly,  that  then  God  must  give  them  wings, 
that  they  may  seek  their  food  in  the  fields.  No  man,  he 
continues,  can  live  without  stores,  without  property,  hence 
it  is  every  one's  duty  to  work.  If  any  one  is  weak  and 
unable  to  work,  God  will  provide  for  him  by  the  gifts 
of  others  ;  but  if  he  can  work,  God  provides  for  him  by 
giving  him  work  and  blessing  it.^^  He  brings  to  bear 
upon  the  monks  in  the  most  decided  manner  the  plain 
and  literal  meaning  of  the  apostolic  rule :  "  He  that  will 
not  work,  neither  let  him  eat."  He  who  has  entered  a 
monastery  as  a  slave,  a  freedman,  or  an  artisan,  is  to  go 
on  working  there  ;  he  who  has  entered  as  a  rich  man  is, 
after  giving  away  his  property,  to  begin  working,  if  he 
possibly  can,  that,  by  such  an  example,  he  may  show  still 
more  mercy,  than  by  even  giving  away  his  goods.  "  For 
the  rich  do  not  humble  themselves  in  the  warfare  of  Christ, 
that  the  poor  may  be  exalted.  In  no  wise  is  it  becoming, 
that  in  the  life  in  which  senators  become  workers,  artisans 
should  be  idlers,  and  that  when  landowner^*  give  up  all 


CHAP,  v.]  MONASTEEIES.  357 

the  enjoyments  of  life,  peasants  sliould  live  in  luxury. 
If  those  out  of  the  upper  classes  work  themselves,  they 
deprive  the  humble  of  every  excuse."  ^^ 

That  it  should  be  just  Augustine,  whose  credit  in  the 
Church  was  for  centuries  so  decisive,  who  sliould  so  write 
about  the  work  of  monks,  as  to  make  labour  their  duty,  was 
of  the  greatest  importance  in  the  development  of  the  Western 
monasteries.  In  fact  we  hear  far  less  of  idle  monks  in  the 
West  than  in  the  East.  Asceticism  was  here  less  strict. 
"  The  Gallic  appetite "  must  be  taken  into  account,  but 
work  was  also  more  zealously  pursued  ;  and  when  Benedict 
gave  a  single  settled  rule  to  monastic  life,  wliich  had 
before  been  multiform,  it  gave  full  expression  to  just 
these  characteristics  of  Western  monasticism,  moderate 
asceticism,  and  a  prescribed  combination  of  meditation 
and  labour.  Seven  times  a  day  did  the  brethren,  accord- 
ing to  Benedict's  rule,  assemble  at  the  seven  canonical 
hours  in  the  church.  Their  remaining  time  was  divided 
between  work  and  meditation.  The  day  began  with  four 
hours'  work,  the  next  two  were  devoted  to  the  reading  of 
the  Scriptures  or  good  books.  After  dinner  there  was  a 
time  of  rest,  then  work  again  till  supper,  and  again  a 
shorter  period  of  work  till  bed-time ;  for  "  idleness  is  the 
enemy  of  souls."  ^  The  diet  was  more  or  less  nourishing 
in  proportion  to  the  work,  and  in  the  time  of  summer  labour 
rations  were  increased.^*^  While  in  Eastern  monasteries 
agriculture  fell  into  disfavour,  as  too  noisy  and  too  alien 
to  meditation,  it  took  the  first  place  in  the  Western,  and 
it  was  just  in  this  respect  that  the  monks  produced  such 
great  results.  Gaul,  which  had  become  almost  a  desert, 
was  re-cultivated  by  them,  the  monasteries  became  every- 
where the  advanced  posts  of  civilization,  the  monks  made 
roads  and  built  bridges,  and  it  was  from  them  that  the 


358  CHKISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [BOOK  HI. 

Franks  and  other  German  races  learnt  agriculture,  handi- 
crafts, and  arts. 

By  work  the  monasteries  obtained  the  means  not  only 
for  their  own  support,  but  for  extensive  benevolence. 
We  have  already  seen  how  Basil  lays  down,  in  his  rules, 
as  the  proper  object  of  work,  not  merely  the  earning  of  our 
own  maintenance,  but  also  the  assistance  of  the  needy. 
Certainly  what  was  earned  went  in  the  first  instance  to 
the  support  of  the  brothers,  but  what  was  over  was  then 
to  go  to  the  poor  outside  the  cloister,  that,  as  it  is  written, 
the  sun  may  rise  upon  the  evil  and  the  good.^^  It  is  gene- 
rally interesting  to  observe,  how,  notwithstanding  the  high 
estimation 'in  which  asceticism  was  held,  the  consciousness 
that  love  is  of  higher  value  and  greater  use  breaks  through. 
When  St.  Spiridion  was  once  visiting  an  exhausted  stranger, 
he,  saint  and  great  pastor  as  he  was,  had  meat  brought 
up,  although  it  was  a  fast- day,  nay,  ate  himself  in  com- 
pany with  the  stranger.  "  For,"  as  he  explains,  "  to  the 
pure  all  things  are  pure.  To  show  love  to  a  stranger  is 
more  than  fasting."  ^^  It  is  said  of  Evagrius,  a  monk, 
that  he  advised  a  brother,  who  was  greatly  tormented 
by  night  visions,  to  attend  on  the  sick,  and  that,  being 
asked  the  reason  of  this  advice,  he  replied :  Such  visions 
are  more  certainly  dispelled  by  works  of  mercy  than  by 
anything  else.^^  Such  traits  are  evidently  reported  with 
approbation,  a  proof  that  a  feeling  still  prevailed,  that 
the  exercise  of  mercy  more  promoted  the  inner  life  than 
any  chastisement  of  the  flesh.  Hence  much  is  related 
also  of  the  charity  of  the  monks  of  the  East,  in  spite  of 
their  tendency  to  contemplation.  Cassian  ^*  tells  us,  that 
the  monks  of  Egypt  not  only  supported  themselves  by 
their  labour,  but  also  assisted  those  districts  of  Libya 
which  were  suffering  from  famine,  and   supported  the 


CHAP,  v.]  MONASTERIES.  bbh 

Christians  who  were  languishing  in  prison  for  their  faith's 
sake  under  Valens ;  and  Augustine  relates/^  that  the 
monks  in  Syria  were  able,  by  diligent  work  and  moderate 
living,  to  send  whole  ship-loads  of  provisions  to  different 
districts.  Strangers,  beggars,  the  sick,  found  reception  in 
the  monasteries.  A  xenodochium  for  their  nse  was 
combined  with  many  cloisters.  The  monk  Thalassius 
collected  blind  beggars  about  him  in  the  district  of  the 
Euphrates,  built  them  dwellings,  taught  them  to  sing 
psalms  and  Christian  hymns,  and  procured  them  a  main- 
tenance from  his  many  visitors.^^  Even  children  were 
often  brought  into  the  monasteries  to  be  taught.  In 
these  rude  times  wealthy  parents  thought  their  children 
were  most  securely  concealed  in  monasteries,  and  were 
glad  to  see  them  led  from  their  earliest  years  to  monkish 
piety.  Basil  in  his  rule  gives  precepts,  as  to  how  the 
children  are  to  be  brought  up  in  separate  dwellings, 
and  Chrysostom  boasts  of  how  much  the  monks  did  in 
education.^^ 

All  this  was  in  the  West  comprised  in  settled  orders. 
Among  good  works,  or  more  strictly  speaking,  among  the 
"  the  tools  of  the  spiritual  art,"  by  the  handling  of  which 
eternal  life  is  obtained,  Benedict  reckons,  immediately 
after  naming  fasting,  feeding  the  poor,  clothing  the  naked, 
visiting  the  sick,  burying  the  dead.^^  According  to  his 
rule,  the  care  of  the  children,  the  sick,  the  strangers,  and 
the  poor  is  imposed  upon  the  cellarius  of  the  monastery, 
and  he  is  to  interest  himself  in  them  with  all  diligence, 
in  the  consciousness  that  he  will  have  to  give  account  at 
the  day  of  judgment. ^^  The  porter  is  to  answer  every 
stranger  who  knocks,  every  poor  man  who  begs,  with 
"  Thanks  be  to  God  ! "  and  then  to  give  him  a  kind  recep- 
tion.    The  poor  and  strangers  are  to  be  received  with 


360         CHRISTIAN  CHAKITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  in. 

respect,  and  attended  to  with  care,  for  in  them  is  Christ 
received.  The  prior  is  to  eat  with  them,  and  is  for  their 
sake  to  break  off  fasting,  except  on  the  great  fast-days. 
Spiritual  food,  reading  of  the  Scriptures  and  prayer,  is  to 
be  added  to  bodily.^°  Many  a  poor  man,  many  a  stranger, 
many  sick  found  shelter,  food,  and  restoration  to  health  in 
the  cloister.  Other  kinds  of  benevolence  were  also  among 
monastic  virtues.  Tlie  cloister  was  a  source  of  blessing 
to  its  neighbourhood  far  and  near.  In  times  of  scarcity, 
in  the  irruptions  of  the  barbarians,  it  was  tlie  monasteries 
that  preserved  the  miserable  remnant  of  the  population 
from  starvation,  that  sheltered  them,  that  inspired  them 
with  fresh  courage.  Benedict  himself,  during  a  famine 
in  Campania,  made  no  ceremony  of  causing  all  the  stores 
of  the  monastery  of  Monte  Cassino  to  be  distributed  to 
the  poor,  trusting  to  God  to  bestow  fresh  ones.  One 
Abbot  Suranus  acted  in  like  manner,  on  the  occasion  of 
an  invasion  of  Upper  Italy  by  the  Lombards.*^  And 
when  the  floods  of  the  migration  gradually  subsided,  the 
monasteries  were  capable  of  becoming  the  centres  of  a 
new  civilization,  and  the  monks  of  becoming,  as  indeed 
they  did,  the  instructors  of  the  young  nations. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  CHURCH  THE  REFUGE  OP  ALL  THE  OPPRESSED  AND 
SUFFERING. 

Ambrose  reckons  it  among  tlie  duties  of  an  ecclesiastic 
to  take  an  interest  in  the  oppressed  and  suffering.  "  Your 
office  will  shine  gloriously,  if  the  oppression  of  widows 
and  orphans  attempted  by  the  powerful,  should  be  hin- 
dered by  the  servants  of  the  Churcji,  if  you  show  that 
the  command  of  the  Lord  is  more  to  you  than  the  favour 
of  the  rich."  ^  In  fact  the  command  of  the  Lord  was 
more  to  the  Church,  than  the  favour  of  the  great  and 
powerful,  of  imperial  officials,  and  of  the  Emperor  himself, 
when  the  question  was  to  protect  the  oppressed,  and  to 
assist  the  poor  and  needy.  Not  that  there  was,  even  in 
such  action,  any  lack  of  hierarchical  presumption  and  self- 
complacent  monkish  exaltation.  When  Bishop  Cyril  of 
Alexandria  offered  violent  resistance  to  imperial  officers, 
when  a  monk  of  Constantinople,  in  arrogant  conceit  of  his 
own  sanctity,  excommunicated  the  Emperor  Theodosius  il. 
(who  did  not  rest  till  the  ban  was  removed),  the  canon  of 
Ambrose,  enjoining  that  "  we  must  not,  in  our  obedience 
to  the  Lord  and  our  love  to  the  brethren,  appear  to  act 
more  from  vanity  than  from  mercy,"  was  not  observed, 
and  transgressions  of  the  kind  frequently  occur.  In  spite, 
however,  of  such  transgressions,  it  is  one  of  the  most 
brilliant  and  honourable  pages  in  the  history  of  the  Church 

361 


362        CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  in. 

which  we  are  now  about  to  turn  over.  It  was  when 
misery  became  greater  and  greater  in  the  perishing  world, 
when  the  arm  of  the  State  was  more  and  more  paralyzed, 
when  the  authorities  no  longer  offered  assistance  to  the 
poor  and  the  oppressed,  nay,  themselves  took  a  part  in 
oppressing  and  exhausting  them,  that  the  Church  became 
on  a  grand  scale  the  refuge  of  all  the  oppressed  and 
suffering. 

Among  the  means  at  the  command  of  the  Church,  for 
the  fulfilment  of  her  destiny  in  this  respect,  the  preaching 
of  the  Word  of  course  stands  first.  Boldly  did  such  men 
as  Gregory  Nazianzen,  Chrysostom,  Augustine,  who,  in 
spite  of  their  pompous  rhetoric — a  rhetoric  characteristic 
of  the  period — will  always  be  reckoned  among  the  greatest 
oratoi's  of  any  age,  rebuke  the  vices  of  the  times ;  boldly, 
too,  did  they  openly  and  specially  reprove  the  sins  of  the 
rich,  the  great  and  the  powerful.  To  this  was  added  the 
means  of  discipline.  The  oversight,  which  the  Church 
exercised  upon  the  behaviour  of  all  her  members,  now 
extended,  so  far  as  they  were  Christians,  to  the  imperial 
officials,  nay,  even  to  the  Emperor  himself. 

Even  in  the  year  305,  the  holding  of  a  magisterial 
office  was  held  to  be  so  incompatible  with  church  member- 
ship, that,  according  to  a  canon  of  the  Synod  of  Elvira,^ 
any  one  invested  with  the  office  of  duumvir,  was  obliged, 
during  the  period  of  his  magistracy,  to  withdraw  from  the 
Church.  In  the  year  314,  however,  a  Synod  of  Aries 
decrees,^  that  if  a  Christian  becomes  prefect  of  a  province, 
a  testimony  to  his  church  membership  is  to  be  given  him, 
for  the  bishop  of  his  seat  of  office.  This  bishop  is  to 
watch  him,  that  he  may  commit  no  injustice,  and  not 
till  he  does  something  inconsistent  with  church  discipline, 
is  he  to  be  excluded  from  the  Church.     To  be  a  Christian 


CHAP.  Yl.]  THE  CHUECH  THE  KEFUGE  OF  THE  OPPRESSED.  363 

and  to  fill  a  magistracy  were,  since  the  relation  of  tlie 
State  to  the  Church  had  become  a  fiiendly  one,  no  longer 
regarded  as  incompatible.  But  the  Church  by  no  means 
gave  up  the  claim  to  inspect  the  behaviour  of  such  of  her 
members  as  filled  magisterial  posts,  and  if  necessary  to 
exercise  discipline  upon  them,  as  upon  any  other  member. 
Athanasius  excommunicated  the  viceroy  of  Lydia,  noto- 
rious for  his  cruelty  and  excesses ;  and  Basil,  vvlio  had 
made  this  excommunication  known  to  his  flock,  could 
testify  to  him,  that  the  Church  agreed  with  it.*  After 
Synesius  of  Ptolemais  having  in  vain  warned  the  Prefect 
Andronicus  to  cease  from  his  injustice  and  his  oppression 
of  the  people,  excluded  him  from  the  Church.  No  church 
was  to  be  open  to  him,  no  priest  to  enter  his  house.^ 
Even  the  Emperor  was  not  too  high  for  the  word  of  exhor- 
tation and,  if  necessary,  the  discipline  of  the  Church  to 
reach  him.  When  the  inhabitants  of  Antioch  were  trem- 
bling before  the  wrath  of  the  Emperor,  because  they  had 
overthrown  his  statues  in  a  tumult.  Bishop  Flavian  went 
to  Constantinople  to  intercede  for  the  town,  and  to  dispose 
the  Emperor  to  leniency,  while  his  presbyter  Chrysostom 
comforted  the  people  and  kept  up  their  hope  by  daily 
sermons,  the  famous  "  statue  sermons"  of  the  great  orator. 
When,  however,  judicial  proceedings  began,  and  hundreds 
were  thrown  into  prison  and  cruelly  tortured,  a  monk 
seized  the  bridle  of  the  judges,  as  they  were  riding  through 
the  streets,  and  cried  to  them  :  "  Tell  the  Emperor  :  You 
are  not  only  an  emperor,  but  a  man,  and  those  you  reign 
over  are  your  fellow-men.  Human  nature  was  made  in 
the  image  of  God ;  do  not  then  so  mercilessly  and  cruelly 
destroy  the  image  of  God."  Chrysostom  had  the  pleasure 
of  being  able  to  proclaim  to  the  people  the  Emperor's 
pardon,  and  they  were  expressly  Christian  motives,  which 


364        CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  ni. 

led  the  Emperor  himself  to  this  decision.  "  "What  merit 
is  it  in  me,"  are  his  words,  "  who  am  but  a  man,  to 
renounce  my  revenge  upon  other  men,  when  the  Lord  of 
the  universe,  who  took  for  us  the  form  of  a  servant,  and 
who  only  did  good  to  men,  prayed  to  His  Father  in 
heaven  for  those  who  crucified  Him  ?"  Nay,  when  Theo- 
dosius  the  Great  had  not  so  moderated  his  easily-excited 
wrath,  but  had  taken  fearful  vengeance  on  the  city  of 
Thessalonica  on  account  of  a  tumult,  thousands  of  inno- 
cent persons,  women  and  children,  having  been  massacred 
by  his  soldiers,  and  was  afterwards  about  to  visit  a  church 
in  Milan,  Ambrose  met  him  at  the  door,  and  expelled 
him  from  both  the  church  and  the  sacrament,  until  he  did 
public  penance,  a  step  which  honoured  the  Emperor  no 
less  than  the  bishop,  and  proved  to  the  whole  people,  that 
there  existed  in  the  Church  a  spiritual  power,  which 
afforded  protection  against  even  the  absolute  ruler  of  the 
world. 

Ear-seeing  statesmen  could  not  but  perceive,  that  such 
action  on  the  part  of  the  Church  would  at  last  be  to  the 
advantage  of  the  State,  that  the  Church  was  in  this  sense 
a  power  protective  of  the  State.  Theodosius  was  well 
aware  of  it.  When  Ambrose,  a  few  days  after  his  ordina- 
tion as  bishop  of  Milan,  remonstrated  with  him  on 
account  of  the  conduct  of  some  of  his  prtefects,  he 
answered  him :  I  have  already  experienced  your  candour, 
and  yet  I  consented  to  your  elevation  to  a  bishopric ; 
therefore  give  us  help,  as  the  divine  law  prescribes,  in 
our  sins.^  The  feebler  the  State  became,  the  more  was 
its  power  transferred  to  the  Church,  and  that  with  its  owr^ 
consent.  The  interposition  of  the  Church  in  favour  of 
the  oppressed  became  the  subject  of  legislation.  Already, 
before  Constantine,  an  episcopal  jurisdiction,  independent 


CHAP.  VI.]  THE  CHURCH  THE  REFUGE  OF  THE  OPPRESSED.  365 

of  the  Church,  had  been  formed  within  the  Church,  and 
this  was  now  formally  recognised,  and  still  farther  ex- 
tended by  the  State.  Ecclesiastics  were  bound  by  it,  it 
was  free  to  other  members  of  the  Church  to  apply  to  the 
bishop's  court,  if  they  chose ;  but  if  they  had  once  sub- 
jected their  cause  to  it,  the  sentence  of  the  bishop  was 
binding  and  unalterable.  If  the  poor  and  humble  could, 
in  the  increasing  corruption  of  imperial  tribunals,  scarcely 
obtain  justice,  it  was  of  the  more  importance  that  recourse 
to  the  tribunal  of  the  bishop  should  be  open  to  them. 
It  was  also  the  right  and  duty  of  the  bishop,  to  interest 
himself  in  those  wlio  had  been  condemned  by  imperial 
justice,  especially  those  condemned  to  death  ;  and  if  they 
often  asserted  this  right  to  a  wider  extent  than  was 
consistent  with  a  strict  administration  of  justice,  nay, 
occasionally  sought  to  obtain,  in  spite  of  it,  favour  for  the 
guilty,  it  still  often  afforded  them  the  means  of  interpos- 
ing in  behalf  of  those  unjustly  condemned,  or  of  mitigating 
a  jurisprudence  which,  as  often  happens  in  times  of 
decaying  civilization,  had  again  become  barbarous.  The 
thought  lying  at  the  basis  of  all  these  enactments  is,  that 
it  is  the  part  of  the  Church  to  exercise  humanity  and 
advocate  mercy  in  opposition  to  strict  justice.  Hence 
the  oversight  of  the  prisons  and  the  duty  of  providing  for 
the  humane  treatment  of  prisoners  were  also  transferred 
to  the  Church,  as  well  as  the  care  of  widows,  orphans,  and 
exposed  children,  and  that  of  the  chastity  of  women  and 
young  girls.  Finally,  and  this  is  a  point  deserving  of 
special  attention- — the  State  recognised  the  Church's  riglit 
of  sanctuary.  This  right  it  was,  which  furnished  her  with 
such  powerful  assistance  in  the  fulfilment  of  her  task,  for 
in  sanctuary  a  temporary  refuge  at  least  was  open  to  all, 
who  desired  protection  against  violence  and  oppression. 


366         CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  in. 

The  temples  and  altars  of  the  gods,  the  images  also  of 
the  Emperor, — for  he  was  esteemed  a  god, — had  rights  of 
sanctuary  among  the  heathen.  He  who  fled  to  them 
might  not  be  violently  taken  away.  This  right  was 
transferred  to  the  Church,  when  Christianity  became  the 
dominant  religion/  At  first  it  was  the  altar — the  holy 
table — that  was  esteemed  a  sanctuary.  Afterwards,  be- 
cause it  seemed  unfitting  that  fugitives  should  sleep  at 
night  in  the  church,  by  the  altar,  or  should  eat  and  drink 
in  the  church,  the  accessory  buildings,  the  court,  the 
bishop's  dwelling,  and  the  surrounding  space  to  thirty 
paces'  distance,  were  admitted  to  the  right  of  sanc- 
tuary. The  Church  insisted  strenuously,  that  here  there' 
was  peace,  and  imperial  legislation  acknowledged  it, 
with  certain  limitations.  No  one  might  take  refuge  in  a 
church  with  arms ;  he  must  deposit  these  in  front  of  the 
church.  Nor  might  any  one  incite  to  tumult  and 
rebellion  from  the  church.  The  sacred  places  were  to  be 
places  of  peace  with  regard  to  both  sides.  Nor  was  an 
asylum  open  to  all  without  distinction.  Murderers, 
adulterers,  carriers-off  of  virgins  and  public  debtors  were 
excluded.  Sanctuary  was  not  to  contribute  to  the  escape 
from  punishment  of  the  really  criminal.  It  was  only  to 
aftbrd  a  refuge  to  those  who  were  unjustly  pursued,  and 
to  enable  them  to  assert  their  rights ;  it  was  to  secure  to 
them  the  first  necessary  protection,  that  they  might  take 
steps  towards  reconciliation  with  their  adversary ;  by  the 
temporary  safety  of  the  pursued,  time  was  to  be  won, 
that  meantime  the  first  wrath  might  blow  over,  and  room 
be  obtained  for  mediation  and  intercession.  Hence  the 
sojourn  in  sanctuary  was  limited  to  thirty  days.  During 
this  time,  the  fugitive,  if  poor,  was  to  be  maintained  at 
the  expense  of  the  Church.     The  Church,  however,  not 


CHAP.  VI.]  THE  CHURCH  THE.  REFUGE  OF  THE  OPPRESSED.  367 

merely  received  the  fugitive  into  her  peace,  but  also 
advocated  his  cause.  When  an  unjust  judge  was  desirous 
of  forcing  a  rich  widow  to  marry  him  soon  after  her 
husband's  death,  she  fled  to  the  church,  and  Basil  pro- 
tected her.^  When  a  debtor,  sued  for  about  seventeen 
solidi  (£10,  15s.),  fled  to  the  church,  Augustine  paid  the 
debt  for  him.'  When  the  quan-els  of  individuals  were  in 
question,  the  Church  did  not  deliver  up  a  fugitive  until 
his  adversary  had  sworn  on  the  Gospels,  tliat  he  was  will- 
ing to  be  reconciled  to  him.  The  fugitive  had  on  his 
part  to  take  the  same  oath.^°  The  Church  vindicated 
this  right,  if  needful,  with  all  energy.  He  who  violated 
the  right  of  sanctuary  was  excommunicated.  It  was  just 
because  the  Prsefect  Andronicus  despised  the  right  of 
sanctuary,  and  issued  a  decree  forbidding  fugitives  to  take 
refuge  in  the  church,  declaring  that  he  knew  where  to 
find  them,  even  if  they  were  embracing  the  feet  of  Christ, 
that  Bishop  Synesius  was  induced  to  pronounce  excom- 
munication against  him.  Nor  was  Basil  terrified  by  the 
threats  of  the  praefect,  who  cited  him  before  his  tribunal, 
from  defending  the  fugitives  who  had  fled  to  the 
church.^^ 

Equipped  with  such  means  for  the  protection  of  the 
oppressed  and  suffering,  the  Church  extended  her  shelter 
to  them  in  the  most  various  M'ays,  and  exerted  herself 
on  every  side  in  mitigating  the  immense  mass  of  misery 
with  which  the  Eoman  Empire  was  filled.  As  we  are 
about  to  survey  what  she  did  in  this  respect,  as  tlie 
advocate  of  all  the  suffering  classes  of  the  population,  we 
must  in  reason  begin  with  those  who  belong  to  its  lowest 
grade — the  slaves. 

We  have  seen  above  (p.  190  sqq.),  that  the  notions  of 
the   Church   concerning  slaves   were   far  removed   from 


368         CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  HI. 

emancipation,  and  this  was  still  more  the  case  during  this 
period,  than  in  that  of  tlie  conflict.  The  Church  was  now 
living  at  peaqe  with  the  State,  and  had  itself  become  a 
power  preservative  of  the  State.  But  the  institutions  of 
slavery,  and  the  bondage  now  to  so  large  an  extent  exist- 
ing and  continuously  increasing,  were  inseparable  from 
the  State  of  those  days.  The  Church  then  recognised 
these  institutions  so  far  as  herself  to  enter  into  them. 
She  was  herself  a  slaveowner.  In  the  canons  of  Councils 
in  which  Church  property  is  computed,  slaves  are,  in  con- 
formity with  the  laws  of  the  day,  reckoned,  as  well  as 
estates,  houses,  moveables,  as  a  part  of  her  possessions,  and 
the  bishop  was  just  as  much  bound  to  retain  the  slaves  as 
to  preserve  the  rest  of  the  Church  property.  He  was  as 
little  able  to  alienate  them  as  any  other  possession,  except 
such  as  fled,  and  were,  after  they  had  been  recaptured, 
troublesome  to  keep  :^^  these  he  might  part  with,  as  other 
masters  also  did  with  refractory  and  unmanagealjle  slaves. 
He  might  not  give  them  their  freedom,  for  this  would 
be  a  deterioration  of  Church  property.  He  was  only 
permitted  to  do  so  to  a  very  small  extent,  viz.,  when 
individual  slaves  had  deserved  especially  well  of  the 
Church.  He  might  then  also  settle  landed  property  upon 
them,  but  not  above  the  value  of  twenty  solidi  (£12,  10s.). 
To  this  extent  his  successor  had  to  recognise  the  manu- 
mission and  donation.^^  Nay,  the  Church  was  as  decided 
in  the  assertion  of  her  rights  as  any  slaveowner  could 
legally  be.  If  the  descendants  of  slaves — decrees  the 
Synod  of  Orleans,  541  '* — are  again  found  in  the  place  to 
which  they  belong,  the  bishop  shall  demand  them  back, 
and  they  shall  remain  in  the  same  condition  in  which 
their  parents  were.  Laymen  who  keep  back  the  offspring 
of  Church  slaves  are  excommunicated.     Gregory  the  Great 


CHAP.  VI.]  THE  CHURCH  THE  REFUGE  OF  THE  OPPRESSED.  369 

makes  no  ceremony  of  having  a  fugitive  slave  brought 
back  "  by  any  means  "  from  Otranto,  though  he  was  also 
torn  from  wife  and  children,  to  serve  as  a  baker  in  Eome.^" 
The  monasteries  also  possessed  slaves.  Here  the  riglits 
of  property  were  even  increased.  The  bishop  miglit, 
under  certain  circumstances,  give  freedom  to  individual 
slaves,  the  abbot  not  at  all,  "  for  it  is  not  fair,  tliat,  while 
the  monks  work,  their  servants  should  be  idle."  ^^  As 
the  Church  asserted  her  own  right  in  the  matter  of  slaves 
without  scruple,  so  did  she  also  protect  the  right  of  others. 
If  in  the  preceding  period  a  slave  might  be  ordained, 
even  against  the  will  of  his  heathen  master,  this  was  now 
unconditionally  forbidden.  A  bishop  who  ordained  a 
slave,  or  a  colonus  who  was  a  bondsman,  against  the  will 
of  his  master,  had  to  pay  double  his  value  as  a  compensa- 
tion, and  was  subject  to  Church  penance."  Nor  could  the 
monasteries  admit  a  slave  or  bondsman  as  a  monk,  against 
the  will  of  his  master.^^  The  consent  of  their  masters 
was  unconditionally  required  for  the  marriage  of  slaves. 
If  a  male  and  female  slave  were  to  flee  to  a  Church  to  be 
married,  against  the  will  of  their  owners,  such  marriage 
•was  invalid,  and  ecclesiastics  are  not  to  defend  such  a 
connection."  These  facts  must  warn  us,  that  certain 
passages  in  the  Fathers,  which  speak  of  the  original 
freedom  of  all  men,  are  by  no  means  to  be  understood  in 
the  sense  of  the  emancipation  theories  of  later  times. 
Many  such  expressions  are  also  found  in  this  period.  It 
is  much  dwelt  upon,  that  God  created  all  men  free,  that 
the  distinction  between  masters  and  servants  first  entered 
the  world  through  sin,  that  Christ  redeemed  and  made  all 
men  free,  that  in  Him  all  men  are  brethren,  all  equal. 
But  these  words  would  be  entirely  misunderstood,  if  tiie 
conclusion  were  to  be  drawn  from  them,  that  it  is  tliere- 

2  A 


370         CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.      [book  HI. 

fore  wrong  to  possess  slaves,  or  if  they  were  used  to  prove, 
that  it  was  the  duty  of  Christians  to  set  their  slaves  at 
liberty.  Even  Chrysostom,  who  so  frequently  brings 
forward  these  very  thoughts,  does  not  demand  of  his 
hearers,  that  they  should  release  their  slaves,  but  only 
declaims  against  the  keeping  of  numerous  slaves,  as 
against  all  luxury,  and  recommends  his  auditors  to  limit 
themselves  to  a  few.  But  these  few  a  Christian  may  keep 
with  a  good  conscience,  if  only  he  takes  care  of  them  and 
treats  them  in  a  Christian  manner.  A  document,  in 
which  Gregory  the  Great  gives  their  freedom  to  two 
Church  slaves,  is  in  this  respect  very  characteristic.^*' 
"  As  our  Redeemer,  the  Author  of  the  whole  creation,  took 
upon  Him  human  nature  for  the  purpose  of  releasing  us 
by  His  grace  from  the  chains  of  bondage,  in  which  we 
were  held,  and  of  restoring  us  to  our  original  liberty,  so 
is  a  salutary  action  performed,  when  men,  whom  nature 
from  the  beginning  made  free,  and  whom  the  rights  of 
nations  have  subjected  to  the  yoke  of  slavery,  are  restored 
to  the  freedom  in  which  they  were  born."  This  saying 
is  often  quoted  ^^  to  prove,  that  the  Church  regarded 
slavery  as  a  relation  antagonistic  to  the  universal  dignity 
of  man,  as  an  injustice,  which  it  was  the  duty  of  every 
Christian  to  repair.  But  it  is  not  so  often  noticed,  that 
Gregory,  immediately  after  these  words,  carefully  defends 
the  rights  of  the  Romish  Church  under  certain  circum- 
stances to  the  property  of  the  manumitted  slaves,  that  he 
therefore,  as  his  conduct  at  other  times  sufficiently  shows, 
does  not  intend  to  abolish  entirely  the  right  of  slave- 
owning,  nor  by  any  means  feels  it  against  his  conscience 
for  the  Church  to  possess  slaves  and  to  deal  with  them 
according  to  prevailing  laws. 

Such  expressions  concerning  the  original  freedom  of  all 


CHAP.  VI.]  THE  CHURCH  THE  REFUGE  OF  THE  OPPRESSED.  37l 

men  are  to  be  understood  from  the  standpoint  of  the  views 
of  the  time,  and  not  till  we  try  thus  to  estimate  them, 
shall  we,  instead  of  spuriously  imputing  to  the  Church 
notions  of  an  abolition  of  slavery,  of  a  compensation  for 
it  by  a  powerful  middle  class,  which  she  never  enter- 
tained,^^ perceive  what  she  really  effected  for  the  slave, 
and  this  was  something  truly  great.  Let  us  not  forget, 
that  the  teachers  of  the  Church  also  regarded  the  unequal 
distribution  of  property,  the  distinction  between  rich  and 
poor,  the  subjection  of  the  wife  to  the  husband,  nay,  the 
existence  of  the  State  as  opposed  to  original  Divine  order, 
and  first  entering  into  the  world  through  sin.  Chrysostora 
on  one  occasion  ^^  even  declares  the  bondage  inflicted  by 
the  power  of  the  State  upon  the  freeborn  to  be  the  harder, 
compared  with  slavery,  and  Gregory  Nazianzen,  in  a 
sermon  on  love  to  the  poor,  places  poverty  and  wealth 
quite  on  a  level  with  freedom  and  bondage,  and  says : 
"  Poverty  and  wealth,  freedom  and  bondage,  are  not 
original  institutions  of  God,  but  came  into  the  world 
through  sin."  The  Church  had  just  as  little  notion  of 
abolishing  slavery,  as  of  doing  away  with  the  distinction 
between  rich  and  poor.  She  expected  the  abolition  of 
all  these  conditions  in  the  perfected  kingdom  of  God ;  till 
then,  the  Christian  must  bear  them  with  patience.  But  as 
the  Church  strove  to  mitigate  the  hardships  existing  in 
these  conditions,  and  so  too  the  hardships  of  slavery,  and 
as  she  took  under  her  protection  all  the  oppressed,  all  who 
were  suffering  from  the  troubles  of  tliis  life,  so  also  did 
she  extend  it  to  slaves. 

This  she  was  now  capable  of  doing  to  a  far  greater 
degree  than  formerly,  for,  as  the  dominant  Church,  nnich 
greater  resources  were,  as  we  have  seen,  at  her  command. 
Above  all.  however,  she  sought  now  as  formerly  to  inliu- 


372         CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  HI. 

ence  both  masters  and  slaves  by  the  preaching  of  the 
Word.  How  frequently  does  Chrysostom,  how  frequently 
does  Augustine,  speak  in  his  sermons  of  the  relations  of 
masters  and  slaves !  The  slave  is  exhorted  to  faithful 
service,  and  referred  to  the  example  of  Christ,  who  Him- 
self became  a  slave.  "  Only  see,"  cries  Augustine  ^*  to 
slaves,  "  Christ  did  not  make  slaves  free  masters,  but  bad 
slaves  good  slaves.  What  thanks  do  not  the  rich  owe  to 
Christ,  for  keeping  their  households  in  order !  If  they 
have  an  unfaithful  servant,  Clirist  converts  him,  and  does 
not  say  to  him :  Let  your  master  go,  you  now  know  your 
true  master ;  your  master  is  ungodly,  you  are  believing 
and  righteous,  it  is  not  fitting  that  the  believing  and 
righteous  should  serve  the  unbelieving  and  unrighteous. 
Christ  speaks  not  thus,  but  says :  Slaves,  look  to  my 
example,  for  I  too  served  the  unrighteous  !  for  from  whom 
did  the  Lord,  who  endured  so  great  sufferings,  endure 
them  but  Irom  the  slaves,  and  the  bad  slaves,  whose 
master  He  was."  By  the  Word  of  God  the  Church  dis- 
pensed moral  power  to  slaves,  to  prove  themselves,  even 
in  this  condition,  truly  free,  to  bear  in  faith  and  hope  the 
hardships  it  involved.  They  were  taught,  that  to  be  born 
in  slavery  was  a  temporary  matter,  that  true  nobility 
consisted  in  willingly  humbling  themselves  to  serve  their 
neighbours.  As  Christ  destroyed  death,  so  that  now  only 
the  name  of  death  remains,  and  it  has  in  truth  become 
but  a  sleep,  so  too  only  the  name  of  slavery  remains,  and 
in  truth  slaves  have  become  free  men  and  brethren  through 
Christ.  The  stain  of  slavery  is  removed  from  him  who 
serves  not  against  his  will,  but  from  the  resolve  of  his 
will,  for  Christ's  sake,  he  is  a  free  man.^^  "  Slaves,"  as 
Augustine  ^®  says,  "  are  themselves  to  exchange  their 
bondage  for  liberty,  by  serving  not  in  slavish  fear  but  in 


CHAP.  VI.]  THE  CHURCH  THE  EEFUGE  OF  THE  OPPRESSED.  373 

true  love,"  and .  he  comforts  them  vrith  the  hope  of  the 
time  "  when  all  unrighteousness  shall  be  over,  when  all 
dominion,  all  human  power  shall  be  done  away,  and  God 
shall  be  all  in  all."  On  the  other  hand  also,  the  Church 
sets  before  masters  in  good  earnest,  their  duties  towards 
their  slaves.  This  was,  alas,  but  too  much  needed  ;  and  this 
continued  harsh  treatment  of  slaves  was  another  symptom 
how  little  the  spirit  of  Christianity  had  penetrated  Eomish 
society.  The  stick  ruled  even  in  Christian  houses,  and 
many  a  Cbristian  woman  was  as  little  ashamed  as  a 
heathen  lady,  of  cruelly  chastising  her  female  slave  for 
the  most  trivial  fault.  Augustine  even  maintains  the 
right  of  a  master  to  strike  his  slaves,^  "  only  it  is  to  be 
done  in  just  and  allowable  measure ; "  and  Chrysostom 
felt  it  necessary  frequently  to  exhort  to  more  lenient 
treatment  in  his  sermons — on  such  occasions  it  is  striking 
to  find  that  he  especially  addresses  himself  to  the  female 
portion  of  his  audience.  He  concedes,  that  the  slaves 
have  faults,  but  reminds  his  hearers  that  "  there  are  other 
means  of  correcting  them  than  the  stick.  Kindness 
would  effect  more  than  fear."  "  They  are  inclined  to 
drunkenness :  take  from  them  the  opportunity  of  getting 
drunk.  They  are  inclined  to  unchastity  :  marry  them. 
This  slave  is  thy  sister  in  Christ.  Has  she  not  an 
immortal  soul  like  thyself  ?  Is  she  not  honoured  by  the 
Lord  Himself?  Does  she  not  sit  at  the  same  table  of 
grace  with  thee?"^^  What  the  preachers  of  the  day 
inculcate  upon  maste*s  is,  that  it  is  their  duty  to  im- 
prove their  slaves,  that  they  are  responsible  for  their 
souls.  A  father  of  a  family,  says  Augustine,  takes  care 
also  for  his  slaves  like  a  father  for  his  sons,  to  lead  them 
to  the  true  worship  of  God  ;  '^  and  when  interpreting  the 
text,  '*  He  that  will  take  thy  coat,  forbid  him  not  to  take 


374        CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  III. 

thy  cloak  also,"  he  seeks  to  apply  it  to  a  man's  whole 
property,  but  excepts  his  slave,  "  if  he  is  brought  up  better, 
more  morally  and  more  consistently  with  the  honour  of 
God,  by  thee  than  he  can  be  by  him,  who  would  take 
him  from  thee."  ^ 

Where  her  words  produced  no  effect,  the  Church  gave 
them  emphasis  by  punishments.  He  who  treated  a  slave 
cruelly,  or  killed  him  without  a  judicial  sentence,  was 
excommunicated.^^  The  sanctuary  of  the  Church  pro- 
tected also  the  fugitive  slave.  If  a  slave  fled  to  a  church, 
he  was  not  delivered  up  to  his  master,  till  the  latter  had 
taken  an  oath  on  the  Gospels,  that  he  should  not  be 
punished.^^  Even  if  the  slave  was  guilty,  the  Church 
protected  him,  at  least  from  the  worst.  The  master  had 
thus  only  to  swear  that  he  would  not  corporeally  chastise 
him  by  strokes  or  death ;  but  he  was  allowed  to  cut  off 
his  hair  or  to  keep  him  to  hard  labour.^  The  clergy, 
too,  often  interposed  as  mediators  for  the  slave.  Basil 
succeeded  in  inducing  one  Callisthenes  by  his  intercession 
to  spare  the  lives  of  two  slaves.^ 

That  the  manumission  of  slaves  was  esteemed  a  good 
work,  is  already  shown  by  the  before-quoted  document  of 
Gregory  the  Great,  though  quite  other  notions  prevailed 
in  it  than  that  of  a  general  though  gradual  abolition  of 
slavery.  The  Church  as  little  contemplated  this,  as  an 
abolition  of  property,  when  she  declared  it  a  good  work 
for  any  one  to  renounce  his  property.  Under  this 
point  of  view,  it  may  be  state4  that  the  Church  ap- 
proved of  manumission,  exhorted  to  it,  gave  the  act  the 
appearance  of  an  ecclesiastical  one,  by  having  it  take 
place  in  the  church,  and  so  imparting  to  it  a  religious 
consecration.  Hence  Chrysostom,  in  speaking  of  luxury 
in  general,   exhorts   to   an   emancipation   of  superfluous 


CHAP.  Vl.J  THE  CHURCH  THE  REFUGE  OF  THE  OPPRESSED.  375 

slaves.  Necessary  slaves  might  be  retained,  only  the 
superfluous  were  to  be  set  at  liberty  and  taught  a  trade.** 
It  is  on  this  account  that  we  meet  with  the  circumstance, 
that  those,  who  desired  to  enter  upon  a  monastic  life,  first 
deprived  themselves  of  their  slaves,  as  of  the  rest  of  their 
property.  Augustine  and  his  clerics  gave  freedom  to 
their  slaves,  when  they  were  about  to  commence  in  com- 
mon their  monastic  life.^  Melania  freed  all  her  slaves — 
according  to  Palladius,  8000, — when  she  left  Eoine  to 
begin  a  conventual  life.  In  epitaphs  also  we  meet  with 
the  manumission  of  slaves,  "  for  the  soul's  health."^^  It 
is  in  this  sense  too  that  we  must  understand  the  reply  of 
Abbot  Isidor  of  Pelusium,  to  a  man  of  rank,  who  applied 
to  him  to  be  allowed  to  retain  one  of  liis  slaves :  "  I 
should  not  have  thought,  that  one  who  loved  Christ,  who 
knew  the  mercy  that  makes  all  men  free,  would  have  a 
slave."  ^  It  is  the  monk,  in  whose  eyes  one  who  loves 
Christ  is,  one  who  has  renounced  the  world,  who  speaks 
in  these  words.  This  too  accounts  for  the  important 
influence  of  monachisrn  upon  slavery ;  and  here  we  come 
upon  as  apparently  contradictory  a  phenomenon  as  bef(jre. 
An  institution  calculated  in  the  first  place  entirely  to 
deprive  men  of  liberty,  utterly  to  absorb  freedom  in 
monastic  obedience,  was  essentially  to  contribute  to  its 
restoration. 

He  who  became  a  monk,  quitted  a  secular  for  an 
"  angelic  "  life.  For  him,  therefore,  all  that  is  distinctive 
of  life  in  this  world  no  longer  existed.  For  him  there 
was  no  State,  no  marriage,  no  property,  and  therefore  no 
longer  the  distinction  of  rich  and  poor,  of  bond  and  free. 
In  the  sphere  of  monachism  slavery  was  virtually  alwli.shed. 
It  was  on  this  account,  that  so  many,  who  desired  to 
escape  from  the  fetters  of  the  life  of  those  times,  streamed 


376        CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  III. 

into  the  monastery.  This  was  especially  the  case  with 
slaves,  many  of  whom  ran  away  from  their  masters  under 
the  pretence  of  "  leading  a  pious  life."  The  matter  became 
60  serious,  that  not  only  had  Emperors  to  interfere  with 
the  secular  arm,  but  the  Church  also.  One  Eustathius, 
probably  the  same  whom  we  meet  with  as  bishop  of 
Sebaste,  consistently  carrying  out  monastic  notions,  invites 
slaves  to  leave  their  masters  and  assume  the  monastic 
habit,  that  they  may  at  a  stroke  abolish  their  servitude. 
On  the  other  hand,  a  council  held  at  Gangra,  the  capital 
of  Paphlagonia,  interposes  and  decrees :  "  If  any  one, 
under  the  pretence  of  piety,  advises  a  slave  to  leave  his 
master  and  run  away  from  his  service,  and  not  to  serve 
his  master  with  good-will  and  full  respect,  let  him  be 
anathema."  ^  This  canon,  which  obtained  universal 
validity  in  the  Church,  was  quite  consistent  with  those 
views  of  slavery,  which,  as  we  have  seen  above,  prevailed 
in  the  Church.  But  the  consistent  carrying  out  of  a 
monkishly  ascetic  isolation  from  all  secular  life,  could  not 
fail  to  result  in  the  entire  dissolution  of  all  human 
relations. 

Hence  the  idea  of  monachism  could  not  be  in  every 
respect  carried  out,  and  monachism,  if  it  had  continued  in 
anchoi'ite  isolation,  would  never  have  become  the  civiliz- 
ing power  it  did.  It  was  obliged  to  take  up  its  position 
in  the  world,  in  a  certain  sense  to  re-enter  tlie  world,  and 
consequently  to  give  up  that  entire  renunciation  of  slavery, 
which  its  principles  involved.  In  the  East  these  principles 
were  so  far  carried  out,  that  the  monasteries  kept  no  slaves. 
In  the  West,  no  scruple  was  felt  on  the  point.*^  Nay, 
slavery  was  in  this  case  even  more  stringent,  inasmuch 
as  the  slaves  of  a  monastery  had  no  chance  of  being  set 
at  liberty.      This  apparently  unfavourable  distinction  of  a 


CHAP.  VI.]  THE  CHURCH  THE  REFUGE  OF  THE  OPPRESSED.  377 

Western  monastery  turns  out  upon  closer  observation  to 
be  in  its  favour.  The  monachism  of  the  East,  which 
retired  entirely  from  the  world,  and  was  in  its  purely 
contemplative  character  without  influence  or  result,  could 
well  dispense  with  slaves.  That  of  the  West  needed  them 
for  its  work  of  civilization.  But  it  was  just  through  this 
work  of  civilization,  that  it  contributed  far  more  than 
Eastern  monachism  to  the  internal  conquest  of  slavery. 
The  fruit,  indeed,  was  not  reaped  till  centuries  afterwards. 
But  still  the  idea  of  monachism  was  even  now  working 
itself  out  in  this  direction.  Whoever  became  a  monk — 
for  which  certainly  in  the  case  of  a  slave,  the  consent  of 
his  master  was  required — was  free,  and  that  for  ever.  The 
slaves  of  monasteries  were  treated  with  absolute  kindness. 
The  monks  themselves  shared  their  labours  in  the  field. 
Besides,  the  high  respect  in  which  monachism  was  held, 
could  not  but  influence  masters  the  more  wilbngly  to  give 
their  freedom  to  such  slaves  as  desired  to  become  monks, 
while  the  Church,  if  needful,  exercised  a  certain  amount 
of  pressure  to  obtain  their  consent.  Lastly,  tlie  idea,  that 
it  was  a  step  towards  perfection  to  deprive  oneself  of  slaves, 
as  of  any  other  possession,  could  not  fail  to  extend  itself 
far  beyond  the  sphere  of  the  convent,  and  to  dispense  many 
to  the  manumission  of  their  slaves.  It  was  the  persuasion 
that  they  were  thereby  doing  a  work  well-pleasing  to  God, 
that  induced  many  of  the  rich  and  great  of  this  world  to 
give  freedom  to  their  slaves,  and  often  in  great  numbers, 
especially  by  testamentary  disposition ;  and  the  Church, 
decidedly  as  it  maintained  the  lawfulness  of  shuery, 
energetically  promoted  this  tendency.  The  manumission 
took  place  in  church,  in  order  to  make  it  clear  tliat  the 
slave  owed  his  freedom  to  the  Church  and  its  influence  i 
and  when  once  he  was  free,  it  was  the  Church  again  who 


378         CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  III. 

protected  and  defended  him  in  his  freedom  in  these  rough 
times.  It  is  often  laid  down  in  the  canons  of  Synods, 
as  being  expressly  the  duty  of  the  Church  to  protect 
those  who  have  been  legally  emancipated  by  their 
masters.*^  And  if  the  freedman,  for  whom  his  master  no 
longer  has  to  provide,  should,  as  so  often  happened,  fall 
into  distress,  it  was  once  more  the  Church  who  assisted 
him  with  her  exercise  of  mercy,  with  her  gifts  and 
benefits. 

There  was  yet  another  point  of  view,  which  induced 
the  Church  to  take  an  interest  in  slaves.  Their  servile 
relation  must  not  be  allowed  to  hinder  them  from  ful- 
filling their  church  obligations,  must  not  endanger  their 
salvation.  It  was  on  tliis  account,  that  the  Church  so 
often  impressed  upon  masters  the  duty  of  allowing  their 
slaves  to  attend  public  worship  and  to  keep  holy  days. 
Thus,  e.^.,  the  Council  of  Orleans,  511,  decrees  that  slaves 
are  not  to  work  on  the  Eogation  Days,  held  at  Ascension- 
tide.*^ It  is  true  that  Constantine  had  already  forbidden 
the  Jews  to  keep  Christian  slaves,*^  but  this  prohibition 
seems  not  to  have  been  carried  out.  In  the  5th  and  6th 
centuries  we  frequently  find  Jews  owning  Christian  slaves; 
indeed,  the  slave-trade  of  the  times  was  chiefly  in  their 
hands.  It  was  they  who  bought  prisoners  of  war  from 
the  barbarians,  and  brought  them  into  the  slave-market 
in  the  Eoman  Empire.  Among  them  were  also  Christians, 
or  slaves  who,  at  first  heatlien,  afterwards  became  Chris- 
tians. But  that  a  Christian  should  be  in  bondage  to  a 
Jew,  seemed  not  only  unworthy,  but  with  the  hatred  still 
borne  by  Jews  towards  Christians,  dangerous  to  his  faith 
and  salvation.  Hence  the  Clmrch  regarded  it  as  a  duty 
to  take  a  special  interest  in  such  slaves.  The  Council  of 
Orleans,  538,"  insists  that  they  shall  be  protected,  if  their 


CHAP.  VI.J  THE  CHUKCH  THE  REFUGE  OF  THE  OPPRESSED.  379 

Jewish  master  exacts  from  them  anything  contrary  to  the 
Christian  religion,  or  if  he  punishes  them  for  a  fault  which 
has  been  already  remitted  by  the  Church.  A  Synod  held 
three  years  later  in  Orleans,  goes  still  further.  It  appoints, 
that  if  a  Christian  who  is  slave  to  a  Jew,  flees  to  a  church 
or  to  another  Christian,  he  is  to  be  ransomed  according  to 
a  just  valuation,  which  appointment  the  Synod  of  Macon 
extends  to  the  decree,  that  every  Jew  must  submit  to  the 
redemption  of  his  Christian  slaves  at  the  settled  price  of 
ten  solidi  (£6,  7s.).**  If  he  refuses  to  accept  this  price, 
they  are  without  further  ceremony  free.  Finally,  Gregory 
the  Great  entirely  forbids  the  keeping  of  Christian  slaves 
by  Jews.  He  declares  it  to  be  an  objectionable  and 
abominable  thing.  He  even  permits  such  shives  as  only 
intend  to  be  Christians,  to  flee  from  their  masters,  and 
assures  them  of  the  protection  of  the  Church.  He  like- 
wise limited  the  trading  of  the  Jews  in  Christian  slaves, 
a  limitation^®  which  was  tlie  more  important,  because,  as 
it  was  just  the  Jews  who  carried  on  so  flourishing  a  trade 
in  slaves,  the  prohibition  must  have  directly  co-operated 
in  the  limitation  of  slavery  itself. 

Next  to  the  slaves  were  the  serf-coloni  and  the  tenants 
who  held  estates  by  hereditary  tenure  for  a  rent  of  natural 
products.*^  These  were  frequently  treated  in  an  unjust 
and  arbitrary  manner  by  their  landlords.  Even  wlien  the 
year  was  a  bad  one,  when  the  harvest  failed,  tiie  same 
supplies  were  demanded  from  them,  or  a  money  payment 
according  to  high  market  prices.  When,  on  the  other 
hand,  there  was  a  good  harvest,  money  payments  at  tlie 
lowered  market  prices  were  refused,  and  more  demanded. 
Eent  was  arbitrarily  raised,  demanded  twice  over,  or  the 
supplies  required  to  be  delivered  in  larger  pro[)ortiun. 
If  the  tenants  had  to  deliver  them  at  an  appointed  place, 


380         CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  III. 

which  was  often  across  the  sea,  and  if  the  corn  already- 
sent  were  lost  on  the  way,  through  shipwreck  or  any  other 
misfortune,  it  was  not  credited  to  them,  but  they  had  to 
send  it  once  again.^^  In  short,  as  much  as  possible  was, 
without  consideration,  got  out  of  them.  "  How  they  ill- 
use  the  poor  farmers,"  exclaims  Chrysostom ;  do  they 
treat  them  more  humanely  than  the  barbarians  do  ?  They 
do  not  hesitate  to  impose  insupportable  burdens,  daily 
heavier,  upon  those  who  are  perisliing  with  hunger,  who 
are  toiling  away  their  lives.  Whether  the  land  yields  any- 
thing or  nothing,  they  always  demand  the  same.*"  In  them 
too  the  Church  took  an  interest.  Theodoret  in  a  letter 
entreats  a  landowner  for  some  indulgence  towards  the 
coloni  of  his  flock :  "  Have  pity  on  the  labourers  who 
have  laboured  in  the  fields  and  have  gained  but  little. 
Let  the  scanty  harvest  be  an  occasion  to  thee  of  a  plenti- 
ful spiritual  harvest."  ^  Augustine  seriously  appeals  to  the 
conscience  of  one  Eomulus,  concerning  his  oppression  of 
coloni,  on  whom  double  supplies  were  about  to  be  imposed, 
and  threatens  him  with  eternal  judgment.  "  They  toil 
for  a  short  time,  but  do  thou  look  to  it,  that  thou  heap  not 
up  treasure  against  the  day  of  wrath  and  revelation  of  the 
righteous  judgment  of  God."  Gregory  the  Great's  letters 
show  how  careful  he  was  about  the  welfare  of  the  country 
people,  and  contain  a  number  of  directions  to  his  defensores, 
for  the  alleviation  of  their  condition.  "  Not  only  by 
frequent  injunctions,"  he  \Yrites  to  his  sub-deacon  Anthe- 
mius,*^  "  but  also  personally,  have  I,  as  I  remember, 
exhorted  thee,  to  have  less  in  view,  in  thy  deportment  as 
our  vicar,  the  temporal  profit  of  the  Church,  than  the 
alleviation  of  the  miseries  of  the  poor,  and  on  the  contrary, 
to  protect  them  against  whatever  oppression  may  be 
inflicted  on  them."     To  the  sub-deacon  Peter,  too,  who 


CHA?.  VI.]  THE  CHTTRCH  THE  REFUGE  OF  THE  OPPRESSED.  381 

administered  the  Church  property  in  Sicily,  he  gives  the 
excellent  advice :  "  I  desire,  that  the  noble  and  respect- 
able may  honour  thee  for  thy  humility,  and  not  loathe 
thee  for  thy  pride.  But  if  thou  shouldest  see  them 
commit  an  injustice  against  the  poor,  then  quickly  raise 
thyself  up  from  thy  humility,  so  that  thou  mayest  be 
submissive  to  them  as  long  as  they  act  justly,  but  their 
opponent  as  soon  as  they  do  evil."  *^ 

There  were  two  kinds  of  evils,  which  pressed  heavily 
upon  the  humbler,  and  especially  the  rural  classes,  oppres- 
sive taxation  and  the  prevailing  usury.  The  taxes  grew 
more  and  more  exorbitant ;  the  arbitrariness  of  officials, 
their  efforts  to  enrich  themselves,  increased  the  oppression. 
Many  among  them  had  employed  large  sums  in  obtaining 
an  office,  and  of  course  thought  it  no  harm  to  extort  all 
the  more.^  It  was  difficult,  almost  impossible,  for  the 
people  to  make  their  complaints  heard.  Only  from  tlie 
bishops,  if  they  could  help  them  in  no  otlier  way,  did 
they  find  at  least  audience  and  sympathy ;  they  also  made 
use  of  their  high  position,  their  relations  with  the  court, 
to  appear  as  intercessors  for  the  people,  and  to  make  their 
often  too  well-founded  accusations  heard.  When  a  tax- 
collector  in  Cappadocia,  for  the  sake  of  extorting  more 
from  the  people,  had  recourse  to  the  means  of  requiring  a 
statement  on  oath  of  property,  Basil  earnestly  remonstrated 
with  him  on  the  perniciousness  of  this  proceeding,  on  the 
temptation  to  perjury  it  involved,  and  actually  required 
its  abolition.  The  letters  of  Basil  also  show  in  many 
other  places,  how  actively  he  interposed  in  behalf  of  the 
heavily-taxed  members  of  his  flock.^  We  possess  a  heart- 
moving  letter  of  Theodoret  to  the  Empress  Pulcheria,  in 
which  he  describes  to  her  the  misery  in  his  diocese,  and 
begs  for  a  mitigation  of  taxation.     "  The  whole  district  is 


382        CHEISTIAN  CHAEITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  m. 

heavily  oppressed.  Many  estates  are  forsaken  by  the 
coloni,  and  are  lying  waste.  And  yet  the  unfortunate 
decurions  are  held  responsible  for  it,  who,  incapable  of 
bearing  such  burdens,  either  become  beggars  or  escape 
from  them  by  flight."  ^^  Gregory  the  Great  represents  to 
the  Empress  Constantina  the  great  misery  of  the  island 
of  Corsica,  where  the  taxes  are  so  high,  that  "  many  are 
scarcely  able  to  meet  the  demands  by  the  sale  of  their 
children."  "  Would  that  the  most  gracious  Empress 
would  take  all  this  into  consideration,  and  stop  the  sighs 
of  the  oppressed.  For  I  do  not  believe  that  these  things 
have  hitherto  come  to  your  most  gracious  ear.  If  this 
had  been  the  case,  they  would  not  have  lasted  till  now. 
Eepresentations  ought  to  be  made  concerning  them  to  the 
most  gracious  Emperor  at  a  fitting  season,  that  he  may 
remove  this  dreadful  burden  of  sin  from  his  soul,  from  his 
Empire,  from  his  children."  ^ 

Woe  to  him  who  should  in  his  necessity  have  recourse 
to  a  loan  ;  what  with  the  high  rate  of  interest,  the  severity 
of  the  laws  against  debtors,  and  the  greed  of  usurers,  he 
was  almost  hopelessly  ruined.  Productive  loans  were  at 
this  period  out  of  the  question.  It  was  only  distress  which 
forced  a  man  to  borrow,  and  only  the  endeavour  to  get 
profit  out  of  others  which  induced  any  one  to  lend  money. 
The  poor,  urged  by  hunger,  were  obliged,  as  Gregory  of 
Nyssa  expresses  it,  "to  swallow  the  barbed  liook  of 
interest."*^  We  everywhere  meet  with  complaints  of  the 
insatiable  avarice  of  usurers.  They  profited  by  the  distress 
of  their  fellow-men,  and  made  "  the  miseries  of  the  unfor- 
tunate a  source  of  gain."  "  The  poor  man  comes  to  seek 
help  from  thee  and  finds  an  enemy,  he  seeks  a  remedy 
and  finds  poison."  "  What  can  be  more  cruel  than  to  derive 
advantage  from  the  poverty  of  a  neighbour,  and  under  the 


CHAP.  VI.]  THE  CHURCH  THE  REFUGE  OF  THE  OPPRESSED.  383 

pretence  of  obliging  him,  to  plunge  him  into  the  abyss  V^ 
The  usurers  well  knew  how  to  take  advantage  of  the 
distress  of  some,  and  the  inexperience  of  others.  "  They 
inquire,"  says  Ambrose  in  describing  their  guile,*^  "  where 
an  heir  to  wealth  may  be  found.  Then  they  go  to  him 
under  a  pretence  of  paternal  friendship,  and  find  out  his 
inclinations  and  needs.  They  call  his  attention  to  some 
fine  estate,  to  be  sold  on  advantageous  terms.  If  he  says: 
I  have  no  money,  they  answer :  Use  mine,  as  if  it  were 
yours.  Thus  they  draw  him  into  the  net.  Then  begins 
the  torture.  Interest  is  heaped  upon  interest,  the  poor 
man  is  forced  to  sell  everything,  and  yet  this  is  not 
enough  to  satisfy  the  creditor.  He  is  thrown  into  prison, 
and  often  driven  to  suicide.  Oh  insatiable  avarice, 
worthy  of  Satan,  whose  most  faithful  portrait  thou  art !  "  ^ 
It  must  be  understood,  that  the  teachers  of  the  Ciiurch 
did  not  distinguish  between  fair  and  just  interest  and 
usury;  that  in  their  eyes  all  interest  was  unrighteous 
usury.  They  taught,  that  to  a  Christian  the  reception  of 
any  interest  was  sin.  Proof  was  adduced  from  Luke  vi. 
34,  35,  but  especially  from  the  Old  Testament  (Ex.  xxii. 
25  ;  Deut.  xxiii  19).  The  fact  that  it  was  allowable  to 
lend  to  an  enemy  could  not  be  appealed  to.  "  Thou  mayest 
kill  him  with  whom  thou  livest  in  a  state  of  war,  and  thou 
mayest  lend  to  him  whom  thou  mayest  kill,  ibr  it  is  but 
another  kind  of  killing."  ^^  Interest  being  allowed  by  the 
civil  legislation,  the  Church  confined,  indeed,  its  express 
prohibition  to  ecclesiastics,**^  but  made  it  a  moral  duty  to 
the  laity  also,  to  lend  without  interest.*'^  While  thus  usury 
in  general  was  opposed  by  the  Church,  she  at  the  same 
time  assisted,  as  far  as  possible,  the  unfortunate  debtor. 
To  deliver  debtors  out  of  the  hand  of  usurers  was  esteemed 
an  especially  good  work.     Thus  Augustine  pays  seventeen 


384        CHRISTIATT  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  in. 

solidi,  for  which  sum  a  certain  Fascius,  pressed  by  his 
creditor,  had  taken  refuge  in  the  church,  and  then  begs 
his  flock  to  replace  the  money  which  he  has  had  to  lend, 
by  a  collection.^*  Gregory  the  Great  having  learnt,  that 
many  farmers,  constrained  to  pay  their  taxes  before  selling 
their  harvests,  were  having  recourse  to  loans,  and  thus 
falling  into  the  hands  of  usurers,  commissions  Peter,  the 
sub-deacon,  to  make  them  an  advance  out  of  the  Church 
resources,  which  they  may  repay  by  instalments.^  The 
deacon  Cyprian  receives  a  like  commission.  He  is  to 
make  advances  to  the  farmers,  that  they  may  not  get 
money  elsewhere,  since  they  will  then  either  have  to  pay 
interest  or  have  their  produce  undervalued.  "  For  thus 
neither  will  the  Church  treasury  be  ruined,  nor  the 
prosperity  of  the  farmers  destroyed."  ^ 

The  Church,  which  thus  denounced  the  oppression  of 
the  poor  by  the  usiirers,  also  opposed  whatever  violence 
was  exercised  by  the  rich  and  noble  against  the  poor  and 
humble ;  and,  as  Ambrose  says,  protected  the  Naboths 
against  the  Ahabs,  of  whom  a  new  one  rose  up  every 
day.^  Especially  did  she  grant  her  protection  to  those 
who  needed  it  above  others — to  the  widows  and  orphans. 
The  Synod  of  Sardica,  which  in  other  respects  endeavoured 
to  limit  the  superfluous  journeys  of  bishops  to  the  imperial 
court,  allowed  them  to  travel  thither  for  the  purpose  of 
interceding,  if  a  widow  were  oppressed,  or  an  orphan 
plundered ;  and  Ambrose,  as  well  as  Augustine,  reckons 
it  among  the  most  pronounced  duties  of  bishops,  to  protect 
them  against  injustice.^  It  was  among  the  circumstances 
by  which  Chrysostom  drew  down  upon  himself  the  wrath 
of  the  Empress  Eudoxia,  that  when  the  Empress,  relying 
upon  a  law,  desired  to  possess  herself  of  the  vineyards  of 
certain  poor  widows,  for  a  payment  in  money,  he  protected 


CHAP.  TT.]  THE  CHURCH  THE  EEFUGE  OP  THE  OPPRESSED.  385 

them  in  their  possessions,  nnconcerned  about  the  wealth 
of  the  Empress.^  The  property  of  widows  and  orphans 
was  frequently  entrusted  to  the  Church  for  preservation 
and  management.  Augustine  once  mentions  this,  and 
adds :  "  The  bishop  protects  the  orphans,  that  they  may 
not  be  oppressed  by  strangers,  after  the  death  of  their 
parents."  ^'^  In  Pavia,  a  respectable  man  had  surrepti- 
tiously obtained  an  imperial  rescript,  b}'  which  the  property 
of  an  orphan,  held  as  a  deposit  by  the  Church,  was  ad- 
judged to  him.  Nevertheless,  Ambrose  refused  to  deliver 
it  up,  withstood  all  the  threats  and  annoyances  of  the 
corrupted  officials,  and  at  last  effected  the  witlidrawal  of 
the  rescript.  Many  of  Augustine's  letters  treat  of  the 
proposed  marriage  of  an  orphan  girl,  who  had  been  en- 
trusted to  the  Church,  and  the  care  of  whom  the  bishop, 
notwithstanding  his  numerous  cares  and  labours,  did  not 
neglect.  "  For  your  piety  knows,"  he  writes  to  Felix, 
"  what  care  the  Church  and  the  bishops  should  take  for 
the  protection  of  all  men,  but  especially  of  orphan  chil- 
dren."" 

The  exposing  of  children  was  still  of  frequent  occur- 
rence. The  consciousness  that  it  was  a  duty  of  a  parent 
to  bring  up  a  child,  and  a  wrong  to  leave  it  to  accident, 
only  gradually  made  way.  Nor  did  the  laws  punish  the 
exposing  of  children.  Valentin ian  I.  was  the  first  to 
promulgate  a  law,  by  which  the  rearing  of  children  was 
made  an  obligation,  and  exposing  them  forl)iild('n.  Still, 
for  a  long  time  this  did  not  put  an  end  to  the  crime. 
Diocletian  sought  to  dispel  the  evil  by  declaring  all 
foundlings  free,  and  by  thus  thwarting  that  love  of  gain 
which  led  to  the  bringing  up  of  these  poor  creatures  for 
shameful  profit,  to  abolish  indirectly  the  evil  iisclf.  But 
this,  too,  was  of  no  avail.     Constantine,  in  the  first  zeal 

2  B 


386  CHRISTIAN  CHAEITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  in. 

of  his  humanity,  appointed  that  to  such  parents  as  declared 
that  they  did  not  possess  the  means  of  bringing  up  their 
offspring,  assistance  should  be  given  from  the  public 
treasury.  This  seems  for  a  long  time  not  to  have  been 
done.  The  resources  required  surpassed  the  power  of  the 
State.  There  remained  only  the  help  of  the  Church,  and 
a  field  of  labour  was  here  opened  to  Christian  charity, 
which  the  remembrance  of  the  high  value  of  children  in 
the  eyes  of  the  Lord,  induced  her  to  cultivate  with  special 
zeal.  The  care  also  of  foundlings  was  incumbent  on  the 
bishop.  They  were  transferred  to  him  by  both  ecclesiasti- 
cal and  civil  laws.  The  emperors  Honorius  and  Theo- 
dosius  II.  appointed,  that  whoever  took  in  and  brought  up 
a  child  should  keep  it,  if  witnesses  declared  that  it  had 
not  been  claimed,  and  the  bishop  signed  this  declaration. 
"Whoever  found  a  child  was  to  announce  it  to  tlie  Church. 
On  the  following  Sunday  this  was  proclaimed  by  the 
clergy  from  the  altar,  and  the  relatives  were  summoned  to 
claim  the  child.  The  finder  was  to  keep  it  for  ten  days, 
and  to  receive  payment  for  so  doing  from  men,  or,  if  he 
preferred  it,  from  God.  If  no  one  came  forward,  it  was 
awarded  to  him.  Whoever  subsequently  claimed  such  a 
child  and  slandered  the  finder,  was  exposed  to  the  punish- 
ment of  the  Church.  The  Church  itself  brought  up  those 
children  whom  no  one  would  receive.  In  Africa,  the  nuns 
collected  foundlings  and  brought  them  to  baptism."  The 
desire  of  procuring  for  children  the  blessing  of  baptism, 
must  specially  have  impelled  to  this  work.  The  bi'epho- 
trophia  also  received  such  children.  Houses  specially  for 
foundlings  did  not  as  yet  exist.  The  Church  also  contended 
with  all  her  power  against  the  crime  of  exposing  children, 
and  the  still  more  frequent  one  of  infanticide.  "  The 
clergy,"  says  the  Synod  of  Toledo,  689,  "and  the  secular 


CHAP.  VI.]  THE  CHURCH  THE  REFUGE  OF  THE  OPPRESSED.  387 

judges  must  unite,  in  extirpating  the  widespread  and 
terrible  crime  of  parents'  killing  their  children  to  escape 
the  trouble  and  cost  of  bringing  them  up."  " 

Certainly  many  an  orphan  girl  and  many  a  foundling 
were  preserved  by  the  good  offices  of  the  Cliurch,  from 
sinking  into  the  abyss  of  prostitution,  which  had  in  the 
heathen  world  demanded  so  many  sacrifices,  and  which, 
alas,  still  demanded  them  in  the  Cliristianized  world. 
The  complaints  of  many  Fathers,  the  dark  pictures  drawn 
by  Salvian  of  Aquitaine,  by  Augustine  of  Africa,  prove 
how  general  this  evil  still  was.  Unconscientious  dealers 
bought  up  girls  and  women,  to  carry  them  to  Constanti- 
nople and  other  large  towns.  It  was  incumbent  on  the 
Church,  at  least,  to  watch  that  this  was  not  done  against 
the  will  of  the  persons  in  question,  and  to  defend  chastity 
from  this  disgraceful  speculation.  Other  attempts,  too, 
were  made  to  check  the  evil,  especially  by  assisting  young 
girls  to  marry  early,  and  by  giving  some  contributions 
towards  their  dowry.^*  I  have  already  had  occasion  to 
mention  the  "  House  of  Penance,"  which  was  erected 
under  Justinian  for  fallen  women.  It  was  indeed  scarcely 
a  Magdalenium  in  the  present  sense,  au  asylum  and  an 
institution  for  improvement,  but  rather  a  conventual  house 
of  discipline.  It  frequently  occurred  in  those  days,  that 
women  had  to  pass  their  time  of  imprisonment  in  con- 
ventual institutions.^'' 

It  was  now,  too,  that  the  influence  of  Christianity  was 
first  felt  in  the  mitigation  of  imprisonment.  An  imperial 
decree  of  the  year  400  imposes  upon  bishops  the  duty  of 
ascertaining,  by  regular  prison  visitation,  that  no  one  was 
detained  there  unlawfully,  and  that  the  prisoners  were 
humanely  treated.'"'  A  canon  of  the  Synod  of  Orleans,  of 
the  year  549,  goes  still  farther.     The  prisoners  are  to  be 


388         CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  AlSrCIENT  CHTJECH.       [BOOK  in. 

visited  every  Sunday  by  the  archdeacon  of  the  Church, 
that  their  misery  may,  according  to  God's  commandmentSi 
be  alleviated  by  compassion.  The  bishop  is  to  appoint  a 
faithful  and  diligent  person  to  care  for  the  wants  of  the 
prisoners.  They  are  to  receive  necessary  food  from  the 
Church." 

Christian  love  turned,  however,  still  more  to  those  who 
had  been  taken  captive  by  their  enemies,  than  to  those 
whom  the  arm  of  justice  had  cast  into  prison,  and  the 
ransoming  of  such  captives  takes  a  very  prominent  place 
among  works  of  mercy  at  this  period.  "  It  is  the  highest 
act  of  liberality,"  says  Ambrose  in  his  work  on  duties,^^ 
"  to  ransom  prisoners,  to  withdraw  them  from  the 
hands  of  their  enemies,  to  rescue  men  from  deatli,  and 
women  from  shame,  to  restore  parents  to  their  children, 
and  citizens  to  their  native  land."  We  feel  here  the 
heart  of  the  Christian  and  that  of  the  Roman,  beating  in 
nnison ;  in  the  eyes  of  the  Eoman,  prisoners  are  citizens 
whom  he  restores  to  their  native  land,  in  those  of  the 
Christian,  fellow-men  whom  he  benefits.  Opportunities 
for  such  deeds  were  but  too  abundant.  When  the  bar- 
barians made  inroads,  they  made  prisoners  of  all  who 
were  not  slain  by  the  sword.  When  the  Goths  overran 
Thrace  and  Illyria,  after  the  fall  of  Valens,  there  were  so 
many  prisoners,  that  "  if  you  could  ransom  them  all,  they 
would  fill  a  province."  What  hosts  the  Vandals  carried 
away  from  Italy  to  Africa,  how  had  Gaul  constantly 
to  suffer  from  this  calamity,  and  afterwards  Italy,  when 
the  Lpmbards  took  the  place  of  the  Goths,  who  were  but 
just  driven  away !  All  who  were  not  ransomed,  incurred 
slavery,  and  were  treated  in  the  most  cruel  manner,  or 
ruthlessly  slaughtered.  It  was  a  sad  spectacle  to  behold 
the  former  masters  of  the  world,  with  chains  on  their 


CHAP.  VI.]  THE  CHimCH  THE  REFUGE  OF  THE  OPPRESSED.  389 

hands  and  feet,  bound  to  the  chariots  of  the  harbarian 
hosts,  and  carried  off  covered  with  blood  and  dust.  They 
often  succumbed  to  their  miseries  and  to  banger,  and 
if  their  ransom  was  too  long  in  arriving,  were  hewn  down 
in  troops.  Or  some  would  return  with  mutilated  li'mbs, 
with  noses  and  ears  cut  off,  to  bring  intelligence  of  the 
misery  of  others.  How  deeply  all  hearts  were  moved  by 
such  distress,  is  testified  by  the  litanies  of  the  time,  which 
contain  special  intercessions  for  prisoners.  "  liemember, 
O  Lord,  the  faithful,  who  languish  in  prison,  and  grant 
them  to  see  their  native  land  again." 

All  the  more  did  the  Christians  of  those  times  feel  a 
lively  interest  in  granting  their  aid  in  such  cases.  Am- 
brose zealously  urged  the  ransoming  of  prisoners  from  the 
Goths.  Chrysostom  applied,  even  in  banishment,  a  portion 
of  the  sum,  which  Olympias  sent  him  from  Constantinople, 
to  ransoming  captives  from  the  savage  Isaurians;  Paulinus 
of  Nola  gave  all  that  he  still  possessed  to  rescue  as  many 
as  possible  from  the  hands  of  the  Vandals,  and  to  save 
them  from  the  fate  of  being  sent  away  into  Africa ;  the 
letters  of  Gregory  the  Great  contain  numerous  directions 
and  injunctions  in  this  respect.^^  At  one  time  he  sends 
thanks  for  sums  received  for  this  purpose,  at  another  he 
directs  a  bishop  how  to  get  money  for  it,  at  another  he 
himself  gives  money  for  this  worV  of  love.  Even  when 
the  prisoners  had  already  been  carried  off  to  the  abodes  of 
the  barbarians,  presbyters  were  sent  after  them  to  deliver 
them  from  slavery. 

Large  sums  were  required  for  such  a  purpose.  The 
barbarians  kept  up  the  price  of  their  captives  in  the  hope 
of  large  ransoms,  Gregory  at  one  time  complains,  that 
the  Lombards  are  demanding  too  much.  For  one  prisoner, 
certainly  a  cleric,  for  whom  a  specially  high  sum  would 


590  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH,       [boOK  III. 

be  demanded,  112  solidi  (=£71,  lis.)  were  paid,^"  and 
it  was  a  question  of  thousands.  For  two  bishops  carried 
away  from  Cilicia,  the  barbarians  had  taken  14,000  gold 
pieces  (about  £9000).^^  But  the  Church  made  no  scruple 
about  employing  her  resources  on  a  large  scale.  She  was 
also  frequently  assisted  in  this  work  by  individuals.  One 
Eusticiana,  a  patrician  lady,  sends  Gregory  ten  pounds  of 
gold  for  this  purpose,  and  Tlieotistus,  a  patrician,  sends 
thirty  for  this  and  for  the  poor  in  general.  Gregory 
applied  half  of  the  gold  to  the  ransoming  of  prisoners 
from  the  Lombards,  the  other  half  he  used  in  purchasing 
warm  beds  for  the  female  servants  of  God  in  Eome,  who 
were  suffering  much  from  the  cold  winter.  He  sends 
Theotistus,  out  of  gratitude,  a  key,  which,  having  been 
brought  in  contact  with  the  relics  of  St.  Peter,  had  thereby 
acquired  great  miraculous  powers.  If  no  means  were  at 
the  Church's  disposal,  no  hesitation  was  felt  at  borrowing 
money,  contracting  debts,  nay,  selling  the  sacred  vessels. 
It  is  related  of  a  whole  series  of  bishops,  that  they  did 
not  shrink  from  this  act.  Exsuperius,  bishop  of  Toulouse, 
had  cut  glass  vessels  for  the  celebration  of  the  Lord's 
Supper.  All  gold  and  silver  had  been  used  for  the  ran- 
som of  prisoners.*^^  No  one  more  excellently  defended 
this  act  than  Ambrose,  whom  the  Arians  had  reproached 
with  it.  "  It  is  far  more  useful,  to  preserve  souls  for  the 
Lord,  than  to  keep  gold.  For  He  who  sent  out  the 
apostles  without  gold,  also  collected  the  Church  without 
gold.  The  Church  does  not  possess  gold  to  hoard,  but  to 
distribute  it,  and  to  help  with  it  in  distress.  Would  not 
the  Lord  ask  us:  Why  did  you  let  so  many  die  of  hunger  ? 
why  were  so  many  prisoners  carried  away  and  not  ran- 
somed ?  why  were  so  many  killed  by  the  enemies  ?  it 
would  have  been  better  to  preserve  the  living  than  the 


CHAP.  VI.]  THE  CHUECH  THE  REFUGE  OF  THE  OPPRESSED.  391 

metal  vessels.  And  what  wilt  thou  answer  ?  Will  it  be : 
I  feared  lest  the  temple  of  God  should  lack  necessary 
adornment?  Would  He  not  reply:  The  sacraments 
being  not  bought  for  gold  do  not  need  gold,  nor  find 
acceptance  for  the  sake  of  gold.  The  adornment  of  the 
sacraments  is  the  ransom  of  prisoners.  How  glorious  to 
be  able  to  say,  at  the  sight  of  the  prisoners  ransomed  by 
the  Church:  Christ  has  ransomed  these!  Behold  a  kind 
of  gold  of  great  value,  useful  gold,  the  gold  of  Jesus  Christ, 
which  delivers  from  death,  which  ransoms  modesty,  pre- 
serves chastity.  I  would  rather  set  these  prisoners  free 
than  keep  the  gold.  The  long  lists  of  the  ransomed 
are  far  nobler  than  the  splendour  of  the  gold."*^  Besides, 
the  canons  of  the  Church  declared  it  allowable  to  sell 
the  treasures  and  jewels  of  the  Church  for  this  object, 
and  Gregory  the  Great  often  praises  bishops  who  have 
done  so,  for  "  it  would  be  a  sin  and  crime  to  esteem  the 
furniture  of  the  Church  above  the  prisoners,"  while  he 
severely  blames  a  bishop,  who  had  refused  to  pay  the 
money  needed  to  ransom  a  boy.^  Hence  the  Church  was 
able  to  restore  large  numbers  to  liberty.  Candidas,  bishop 
of  Sergiopolis,  on  one  occasion  ransomed  12,0U0  prisoners 
for  14,400  solidi  (£9136,  16s.).  Especially,  as  the  in- 
scriptions show,  was  the  Gallic  Church  zealous  in  this  work, 
to  which  private  individuals  also  contributed.  "  With  her 
treasures  she  delivered  prisoners  from  unjust  fetters,"  is 
read  on  the  gravestone  of  Eugenia,  a  Christian  woman.^ 

This  work  of  mercy  extended  beyond  the  boundaries  of 
the  Roman  Empire,  a  sign  that  it  was  prompted  l.y  more 
than  mere  patriotism,  and  that  something  more  was  thought 
of  than  restoring  citizens  to  the  country,  and  dev^y  to 
the  Church.  When,  on  the  occasion  of  a  great  victory 
of  the  Emperor  Theodosius  II.  over  the  Persians,  many 


392  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.      [BOOK  m. 

prisoners  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  Eoman  soldiers, 
Acacius,  bishop  of  Amida,  called  his  clergy  together,  and 
represented  to  them :  "  Our  God  needs  neitlier  the  plates 
nor  the  cups,  for  as  One  who  needs  nothing.  He  neither  eats 
nor  drinks.  What  then  do  we  want  with  so  much  silver 
plate  ?  It  is  right  that  we  should  sell  it  and  ransom  and 
feed  the  prisoners."  And  this  was  done,  the  prisoners 
were  ransomed  and  sent  back  to  the  Persian  king  supplied 
with  necessary  provisions  for  the  journey.^ 

And  how  nmch  more  may  have  been  done  in  private ! 
Theodoret  tells  us  on  one  occasion,  in  his  letters,  all  of 
which  are  pervaded  by  the  remembrance  of  the  miseries 
inflicted  on  Africa  by  the  Vandals,  a  little  history  of  the 
kind,  which  well  deserves  to  find  a  place  here.  Mary,  a 
noble  lady,  was  taken  prisoner  by  the  Vandals,  dealers 
had  ])rought  her  to  Cyrus  in  Syria,  and  there  sold  her  and 
her  maid.  The  maid,  though  now  her  fellow-slave,  still 
continued  to  serve  her  mistress  faithfully.  When  this 
was  known,  certain  Christians  ransomed  her,  the  bishop 
commended  her  to  the  care  of  a  deacon,  and  assigned  her 
a  certain  supply  of  corn  for  her  support.  She  then  heard 
that  her  father  was  still  alive  and  invested  with  an  office 
in  the  West.  She  therefore  set  out  to  go  to  him,  and 
Theodoret  gave  her  a  letter  of  introduction  for  the 
journey .^'^  In  several  other  letters  Theodoret  recommends 
one  Celestiacus,  who  had  formerly  been  rich,  but  having 
lost  everything  at  the  conquest  of  Carthage  by  the 
Vandals,  was  now  wandering  about  in  poverty  with  his 
wife  and  child,  and  entreats  that  he  may  be  assisted.^® 

We  must  now  just  turn  our  attention  more  directly  to 
the  misery  of  the  perishing  world,  and  survey  that  which 
is',  in  the  times  when  great  revolutions  are  effected,  so 
easily    overlooked,  the    manner    in  which    this    misery 


CHAP.  VI.]  THE  CHURCH  THE  REFUGE  OF  THE  OPPRESSED.  393 

affected  the  lives  of   individuals.     Those  who    suffered 
were  countless  multitudes.     It  was    amid    thousandfold 
calamities,  in  such  wretchedness  as  scarcely  ever  recurred, 
as  was  perhaps  just  at  one  time  approximated  during  the 
Thirty  Years'  War,  that  the  old  world  perished,  and  all 
its  glory  was  buried.     Like  successive  floods    did    the 
German  nations  inundate  the  Empire,  wrecking  the  old 
forms  and  ordinances  of  political  and  national  life,  and, 
themselves     as     yet    incapable    of    creating     new    and 
permanent    ones;    they  came    in    the    vigour  of   youth, 
and    but    too   soon   enervated  by   the  mild    climate,   to 
which   they  were  unaccustomed,  weakened  by   the    in- 
dulgences of  a  foreign  civilization,  consumed  by  the  sins 
of   those   whom    they   had   subdued,  were  drawn  down 
with  them  to  destruction.      How  soon  were  the  Vandals, 
to  whom,  as  Salvian  says  when  rebuking  the    Komans, 
God  gave  the  victory  because  of  their  chastity,  quite  as 
morally  corrupt  as  the  Romans  !     How  did  the  Ostro- 
goths  perish   in  Spain,  how  tragically  the  Visigotlis  in 
Italy !     At    first    an    unparalleled   chaos  ensued.      'J"he 
new,  the    Christianized,  German  world  was    born    amid 
thousandfold  pangs  ;  centuries  passed  before  settled  and 
permanent  policies  and  nations  emerged  from  the  deluge 
of  the  migration  of  the  nations.      And  in  the  midst  of 
this  chaos,  stood  the  Church  as  the  sole   power  whitli 
survived  the  universal  ruin,  and  continued  to  perform  its 
office  of   being  the    refuge  of   all    the     oppressed     and 
suffering.     In  these  times  of  confusion,  when  every  other 
support  failed,  she  alone  still  held  out  a  helping  hand  to 
the  poor,  pursued,  and  alarmed  people.     Did  an  invasion 
rage  over  the  land,  and  towns  and  villages  lie  in  ashes, 
the  Church  was  still  there,  and  immediately  recommonted 
her  work.     Churches,  chapels,  hospitals  and  monasteries, 


394  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [BOOK  IIL 

the  houses  of  mercy,  were  the  first  to  be  rebuilt.  There 
distributions  again  began,  there  did  the  poor  daily  find 
the  storehouses  of  the  Church  open  to  them,  and  receive 
such  food,  shelter  and  assistance  as  she  could  give. 
Besides  material  help,  however,  they  also  received 
spiritual  gifts.  Distributions  of  alms  were  combined 
with  public  worship.  The  poor,  who  came  to  get  bread  to 
appease  their  hunger,  or  a  garment  to  cover  their  naked- 
ness, or  medicine  and  advice  for  their  sickness,  lieard  at 
the  same  time  the  word  of  God,  preached  as  well  as  the 
Church  knew  how,  received  comfort  from  this  source  of 
all  comfort,  and  acquired  strength  to  go  on  suffering  and 
hoping.  If  the  people  did  not  utterly  despair,  they  owed 
this  to  the  never-ceasing  charity  of  the  Church.  In  fact, 
it  was  a  great,  a  marvellously  great,  work  which  the 
Church  effected  at  that  time,  a  work  which  proves,  that 
in  the  love  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  a  new  power  had 
entered  the  world,  which  even  these  tempests  could  not 
destroy,  which,  on  the  contrary,  only  manifested  itself 
the  more  great  and  glorious  in  the  midst  of  the  tempest 
and  the  universal  misery.  The  Church  could  not  save 
the  old  world,  but  she  sat  at  its  death- bed  with  help  and 
comfort,  and  lighted  up  its  last  hours  with  such  an 
evening  glory  as  the  old  world  had  never  known  in  the 
times  of  its  greatest  prosperity. 

At  the  same  time  she  stood  also  at  the  cradle  of  a  new 
world,  of  the  German  Christian  world,  at  the  cradle  of 
the  Middle  Ages. 

The  work  effected  by  the  Church  with  respect  to  the 
German  nations,  falls  indeed  outside  the  limits  of  the 
picture,  which  I  proposed  in  the  first  instance  to  paint, 
of  charity  in  the  ancient  Church.  We  may,  however, 
just  cast  a  glance  at  it.     They  were  young  nations  in 


CHAP.  VI.]  THE  CHUECH  THE  EKFUGE  OF  THE  OPPRESSED.  395 

nnbroken,  but  still  rude  power,  who  now  intermingled 
with  the  remnants  of  the  ancient  nations,  occupied  their 
place,  were  their  heirs,^  and  at  the  same  time  tlie 
continuers  of  their  work.  To  educate  them  to  this  was 
the  task  of  the  Church,  and  among  educational  forces 
compassionate  love  was  one  of  the  most  prominent. 
Nay,  I  might  in  a  certain  sense  say,  that  hospitals  and 
cloisters  were,  together  with  the  house  of  God,  the 
episcopal  cathedral,  or  the  quiet  forest  chapel,  the  two 
national  centres  of  education.  Love  in  the  hospital, 
work  in  the  cloister, — these  were  the  educational  powers. 
The  Church  made  no  distinction  between  Germans  and 
Eomans.  The  poor  German,  equally  with  the  poor 
Eoman,  received  her  alms,  or  was  welcomed  into  her 
hospitals.  But  what  he  saw  and  experienced  made  a  far 
deeper  impression  upon  him.  To  the  lloman,  cliarity  was 
already  a  thing  with  which  he  had  long  been  familiar  ;  to 
the  German  it  was  entirely  new.  J'or  wiiatever  kindness 
there  was  in  the  German  nature,  expressed  as  it  was  by 
the  old  word  "  Milte"  which  means  especially  liberality 
towards  the .  poor,  it  was  still  something  very  different 
from  Christian  love.  Besides,  all  that  was  best  and  most 
excellent  about  it  had  been  long  since  lost  amidst  the 
migrations  and  invasions.  It  was  a  far  more  savage  race, 
that  was  now  sojourning  within  the  Eoman  boundaries, 
than  that  which  had  formerly  settled  in  the  German 
districts.  How  then  must  the  Church's  work  of  love  have 
bound  the  young  nations  to  her,  how  must  it  have  rendered 
them  accessible  also  to  her  doctrines  and  ordinances, 
and  have  gained  their  hearts  for  the  exalted  Lord  of 
heaven,  who  once  walked  on  earth  as  a  poor  man  '  And 
in  the  monasteries  and  from  the  monasteries,  the  people, 
now  alienated  from  and  despising  work,  again  learned  to 


396         CHRISTIAN  CHAPJTY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [BOOK  III. 

"work.  The  monasteries  became  everywhere  the  starting- 
points  of  a  new  civilization.  There  was  the  field  again 
tilled,  the  vine  again  cultured ;  there,  too,  was  also 
cultivated  whatever  of  art  and  science  had  been  rescued 
from  the  overthrow.  Thence  originated  that  new 
Germanic  civilization,  which  everywhere  had  its  roots  in 
the  ancient  civilization,  but  with  this  difference,  that  Chris- 
tianity now  penetrated  far  more  deeply  into  national  life, 
than  it  had  ever  done  in  the  Eoraan  Empire,  and  that 
the  Church  became  for  a  thousand  years  almost  the 
all-dominating  power. ^^ 

It  was  in  the  Church  life  of  the  Middle  Ages,  that  all 
that  had  hitherto  existed  only  in  germ,  was  developed  in 
full  maturity.  To  the  Middle  Ages  were  transferred 
those  ethic  views  of  riches  and  poverty,  of  earnings  and 
alms,  and  of  the  meritorious  and  expiatory  power  of  the 
latter,  of  which  we  have  spoken.  In  Thomas  Aquinas 
and  in  the  ethical  works  of  the  Middle  Ages,  we  find 
again,  at  least  on  the  whole,  the  same  views  which  we 
have  already  met  with  in  Ambrose,  Augustine,  and 
Gregory  the  Great,  only  they  are  now  systematically 
developed  into  a  complete  view  of  the  world,  which 
influenced  the  entire  social  life  of  the  Middle  Ages.  To 
these  were  also  transferred  the  forms  of  charity,  as  they 
had  been  already  fashioned,  the  combination  of  alms  with 
masses  for  the  departed,  the  memorials,  the  charitable 
endowments  for  the  soul's  salvation  of  the  deceased, 
together  with  the  hospital  and  monastery  as  centres  of 
charity,  but  all  was  developed  in  infinitely  more  copious 
variety.  No  period  has  done  so  much  for  the  poor  as 
the  Middle  Ages.  What  wholesale  distribution  of  alms, 
•what  an  abundance  of  institutions  of  the  most  various 
kinds,  what    numbers  of   hospitals    for    all    manner    of 


CHAP.  Vl-l  THE  CHUKCH  THE  REFUGE  OF  THE  OPPRESSED.  397 

sufferers,  what  a  series  of  ininistrant  orders,  male  and 
female,  knightly  and  civil,  what  self-sacrifice  and  devoted- 
ness  !  In  the  mediaeval  period  all  that  we  have  observed 
germinating  in  the  Ancient  Church,  first  attains  its 
maturity. 

The  Middle  Ages,  however,  also  appropriated  whatever 
tendencies  existed  towards  a  one-sided  and  unsound 
development.  Church  care  of  the  poor  entirely  perished, 
and  all  charity  became  institutional ;  monks  and  nuns, 
or  members  of  the  ministrant  orders,  took  the  place  of 
the  deacons — the  diaconate  died  out.  Charity  became 
one-sidedly  institutional  and  one-sidedly  ecclesiastical. 
The  Church  was  the  mediatrix  of  every  exercise  of 
charity,  she  became  in  fact  the  sole  recipient,  the  sole 
bestower,  for  the  main  object  of  every  work  of  mercy,  of 
every  distribution  of  alms,  of  every  endowment,  of  all 
self-sacrifice  in  the  service  of  the  needy,  was  the  giver's 
own  salvation.  The  transformation  was  complete.  Men 
gave  and  ministered  no  longer  for  the  sake  of  helping  and 
serving  the  poor  in  Christ,  but  to  obtain  for  themselves 
and  theirs  merit,  release  from  purgatory,  a  high  degree  of 
eternal  happiness.  The  consequence  was,  that  poverty 
was  not  contended  with,  but  fostered,  and  beggary  brought 
to  maturity ;  so  that,  notwithstanding  the  abundant 
donations,  the  various  foundations,  the  well  -  endowed 
institutions,  distress  was  after  all  not  mastered.  The 
mediaeval  period  first  works  out,  in  this  respect  also, 
what  was  begun  in  the  period  we  have  been  observing, 
and  furnishes  in  its  issue,  in  its  utter  bankruptcy  with 
respect  to  poverty,  a  proof  that  charity,  like  all  Christian 
life,  no  longer  corresponded  with  the  gospel,  no  longer 
sprung  from  it  alone,  but  was  contaminated  by  the  recep- 
tion of  extra-Christian,  of  Jewish,  and  ancient  elements. 


398         CHRISTIAN  CHARITY  IN  ANCIENT  CHURCH.       [book  III. 

Not  till  the  Eeformation  was  the  source  returned  to, 
the  primitive  Christian  notions  of  riches  and  poverty,  of 
property  and  alms,  of  work  and  vocation  revived,  and 
consequently  new  fountains  of  active  love  unsealed. 
These  notions,  however,  are  very  far  from  having  been 
fully  carried  out ;  we  must  on  the  contrary  confess,  that 
our  Church  has  in  this  respect  also,  and  perhaps  most  of 
all  in  this,  come  short  in  practice  of  what  has  been  given 
her  in  knowledge.  The  first  duty  of  our  age  is  to 
realize  in  action  the  evangelical  and  reformed  ideas 
concerning  charity  and  the  relief  of  the  poor,  in  connec- 
tion with  those  concerning  calling  and  work,  wages  and 
property.  Beginnings,  thank  God,  exist.  Would  that 
they  may  but  develop  with  increasing  power !  Then 
alone  can  we  contemplate,  if  not  without  fear,  yet  still  with 
hope,  the  changes,  the  new  formations  of  social  life,  which 
we  or  our  children  will  experience.  As  in  those  times, 
when  the  Christian  Germanic  world  came  forth  from  the 
destruction  of  the  ancient  world,  so  now  again  has  love  a 
great  task  to  accomplish  ;  God  grant  that  we  may  be 
equal  to  it !  In  Christianity  is  given  us  the  remedy  for 
all  evils,  the  inexhaustible  source  of  healthy  life,  but  let 
us  not  forget  how  our  Lord  says :  "  By  this  shall  all  men 
know  that  ye  are  My  discijjles,  if  ye  have  love  one  to 
another." 


NOTES. 

0 

BOOK  I. 

CHAPTER    I. 

(1)  Lact.  Inst.  vi.  10.  —  (2)  Tacit.  Ann.  iv.  63.  —  (3)  Quinctilian 
Declamat.  301,  ed.  Bipont.  p.  175.  Plautus,  Trinummns,  act  iii.  so.  2. — 
(4)  Staatshaushalt  der  Athener,  ii.  260. — (5)  E.g.  Corp.  Inscr.  Lat.  ii. 
1270  ;  4511  ;  viii.  4202  and  5148.  Orelli,  80  ;  4042,  etc.— (6)  Ba-ckh, 
Staatshaushalt  der  Athener,  i.  260  sqq. — (7)  Jdcm,  ii.  83.  —  (8)  Isocratcs, 
Areop.  38.  —  (9)  Bceckh  as  above,  i.  235  sqq.— (10)  Plebs.  frumeiitaiia, 
•;^X<>j  -rX-riiei  a.'tropei  vrUnris.  Comp.  Dio  Cass.  38,  23  ;  Appiau  B.C.  ii.  120. 
—(11)  Vit.  Sever,  c.  18.— (12)  Vit.  Aurel.  c.  35,  48.— (13)  Comp.  Ilirsch- 
feld,  die  Getreideliefenmg  hi  der  Rom.  Kaiserzeit,  Giittingen  1869,  ])p.  20, 
21. — (14)  Hirschfeld's  above-named  work,  p.  44. — (15)  Comp.  Momm.sen's 
Rom.  Gesch.  491  :  "  Caesar  first  developed  into  an  organic  in.stitution  of  tiie 
State,  that  which  in  the  narrow  restriction  of  Athenian  life  had  remained 
an  affair  of  the  community,  and  transformed  an  anaugcment  wliieh  was  a 
burden  and  disgrace  to  the  State  into  tlie  first  of  tliose  innumerable 
institutions  so  rich  in  blessing,  in  which  infinite  human  compassion 
contends  with  infinite  human  misery."  This  is  certainly  saying  too 
much,  but  it  correctly  points  out  the  path  this  institution  was  taking. — 
(16)  Mommsen  and  Marquardt,  Handbuoh  der  Rom.  Altertliiimer,  v.  106 
sqq.— (17)  Plin.  ix.  81 ;  xiv.  27.  Friedlander,  i.  421.— (18)  Sueton.  Nero, 
c.  9,  18. — (19)  Haser,  Gesch.  der  Krankenpflege,  p.  3. — On  the  houses  for 
suppliants  at  the  temples  of  jEsculapius,  comp.  Paus.  ii.  27,  2  ;  x.  32,  8.  — 
(20)  Tac.  Ann.  ii.  47  ;  Marc.  Aurel.  Vit.  c.  11.— (21)  Innumerable  insciip- 
tions  testify  to  this  fact.  Comp.  e.g.  Or.  80,  748,  2172,  3848,  5323  ; 
C.  J.  i.  190  ;  ii.  4514;  v.  5651,  7881  ;  viii.   967,  6948,  and  elsewhere.— 

(22)  Comp.  Marquardt  and  Mommsen's  above-named  work,   137   sqcj. — 

(23)  Corp.  Inscr.  ii.  1174.— (24)  C.  J.  viii.  1641.— (25)  Ep.  vii.  18.— 
(26)  Bullet  de  I'lnst.  1839,  153.— (27)  Comp.  on  the  colUgia  esp.ciMliy, 
MommseQ,  D«  collegiis  et  sodaliciis  Romanorum,  Eilise  1843,  and  Boissier, 


400  NOTES. 

La  Religion  Romaine,  ii.  277-342. — (28)  Comp.  Boeckh's  albove-named 
work,  i.  267  sqq. — (29)  Comp.  on  those  especially,  Marqnardt  and 
Monimsen's  above-named  work,  vi.  137  sqq. — (30)  TertuUian,  Apolog.  c, 
89.— (31)  Or.  6086.— (••]2)  C.  J.  viii.  2557.— A  passage  in  Plin.  Epp.  x. 
93,  94,  is  also  interesting.  Pliny  is  entreating  permission  lor  an  Eranos, 
a  collegium  in  the  town  of  Amisus,  and  Trajaa  grants  it,  with  the  word.s, 
"eo  facilius,  si  tali  collatione,  non  ad  turbas  et  illicitos  coetns  sed  ad 
sustinendum  tenuiorum  inopiam  ntuntur."  Hence  the  question  was 
concerning  a  collegium  for  mutual  assistance.  In  .spite  of  which  Trajan 
objects  :  "In  caeteris  civitatibus,  quse  nostro  jure  obstrictfc  sunt,  res 
huju.smodi  prohibenda  est."— (33)  Or.  3999  ;  4107.— (34)  C.  J.  v.  5907.— 
(35)  Or.  7215.— (36)  Or.  3999.— (37)  Or.  4366.— (38)  C.  J.  viii.  9052.— 
(39)  C.  J.  V.  5272.— (40)  C.  J.  ii.  4511.— (41)  Or.  2417.— (42)  Comp.  e.g. 
Or.  1485;  1238.  — (43)  C.  J.  ii.  1976.— (44)  "  Zur  Geschiehte  der 
romischen  Tributsteuern  seit  Augustus  "  in  Hildebrand's  Jahrbiichern  fiir 
Nationalokonoraie,  viii.  461.  —  (45)  Marquardt  and  Mommsen,  vi.  254 
sqq. — (46)  Liv.  xvi.  23  ;  xxxiii.  2,  25.  Varro  in  Non.  s.v.  pandere. 
Marquardt  and  Mommsen,  vi.  347,  note  2.— (47)  Comp.  Ovid  ex  Ponto,  i. 
1,  39  ;  iv.  352  ;  Cicero,  de  Leg.  ii.  9,  22  ;  Minuc.  Felix  Ootavius,  c.  24  ; 
Tertull.  Apolog.  c.  13  ;  Liv.  xv.  12  ;  xxii.  1.— (48)  Liv.  ii.  33  ;  iii.  18.— 
(49)  Plin.  H.  N.  xxxiii.  10.  Among  the  inscriptions  are  found  many 
which  speak  of  the  erection  of  a  statue  "■stipe  coUata." — (50)  Republ. 
vi.  508. —(51)  Definit.  p.  414;  Republ.  vii.  517. —(52)  Tim.  29; 
Republ.  X.  613.— (53)  Rep.  vii.  519. -(54)  Rep.  iii.  168.— (55)  Eth. 
Nicom.  iv.  1.— (56)  Ibid.  c.  2.— (57)  Ibid.  viii.  2  ;  ix.  5,  9.— (58)  Ibid, 
viii.  2.— (59)  Diog.  Laertius,  v.  1.— (60)  Eth.  Nicom.  ix.  8.— (61)  De 
beneficiis,  ii.  1.  9,  14. — (62)  De  benef.  iv.  3,  Non  est  beneficium,  quod 
fortunam  spectat.  C.  9  :  Ergo  beneficium  per  se  expetenda  res  est.  Una 
spectatur  in  eo  accipientis  utilitas  ;  ad  banc  accedamus,  semotis  commodis 
nostris.— (63)  iv.  11.— (64)  iv.  9.— (65)  iv.  29.— (66)  iv.  26-28.— (67)  iv. 
29  :  "  negligente  "  "non  homini  damus  sed  humanitati." — (68)  vii.  32. — 
(69)  iv.  12.— (70)  De  dementia,  ii.  5,  6.— (71)  Giornale  Arcadico,  t.  39, 
p.  223.— (72)  C.  J.  V.  6668.— (73)  Or.  3177.— (74)  Or.  114.— (75)  C.  J. 
viii.  7384. — A  similar  inscription  is  found  in  Le  Blant,  Inscriptions 
chr^tiennes  de  la  Gaule,  i.  171.  The  last-named  inscription  is  in  the 
Journal  de  I'instruction  publique,  Feb.  26,  1853.— (76)  Philostratus, 
Apollon.  iv.  3. 

CHAPTER    II. 

(1)  Comp.  Diestel,  Die  Idee  der  Gerechtigkeit  im  alten  Testament. 
Jahrb.  f.  deutsche  Theologie,  1860,  p.  214. — (2)  Comp.  Eisenmenger, 
Entdecktes  Judeuthum,  ii.  287. — (3)  Traclat,  Rosch  haschana. — (4)  Pirke 


NOTES.  401 

Aboth,  V.  13.  Comp.  also  the  same,  v.  10  :  "Many  qualities  are  found 
in  men.  Some  say,  "What  is  mine  is  mine,  and  what  is  thine  is  thine. 
These  are  the  medium  sort.  Some  say.  What  is  mine  is  thine,  and  what 
is  thine  is  mine.  That  is  the  way  of  the  ignorant.  Some  say,  Wliat  is 
mine  is  thine,  and  what  is  thine  is  thine.  That  is  a  Chassid  (a  pious 
person).  Some  say.  What  is  mine  is  mine,  and  what  is  thine  is  also  mine. 
That  is  the  way  of  the  ungodly."— (5)  Eisenmenger's  above-named  work, 
i.  617  sqq.  Rabbi  Israel  say8 :  Show  no  kindness  and  mercy  to  the 
nations  of  the  world. 


CHAPTER    III. 

(1)  It  is  utterly  unsatisfactory,  though  from  his  point  of  view  quite 
intelligible,  when  Ratzinger,  in  his  "Geschicbte  der  Armenpiloge," 
(Freiburg  in  Brisgau  1868),  discussing  the  beginnings  of  Christian  relief 
of  the  poor  (p.  4  sqq.),  can  speak  of  nothing  but  the  teaching  and 
commands  of  Christ.  This  shows  beforehand  the  character  of  his  other- 
wise very  meritorious  and  useful  work.  He  has  carefully  collected 
materials  for  a  history  of  the  relief  of  the  poor,  but  he  is  not  in  a  condition 
to  represent  its  development,  because  his  Roman  Catholic  standpoint 
obstructs  his  view  of  the  development  of  Christian  life  and  of  ethic  views. 
Also  Chatel,  "Etudes  historiques  sur  I'influence  de  la  Charite  durant  les 
premiers  si^cles  chr^tiens"  (Paris  1853),  dwells  in  far  too  one-sided  a 
manner,  livre  i.  chap,  i.,  upon  "la  predication  de  la  charite  par  Jesus 
Christ,"  as  though  the  teaching,  the  preaching,  could  of  itself  have 
called  forth  a  life  of  love.  The  consequence  of  this  is,  that  he  too  does 
not  attain  to  a  deeper  insight  of  the  development.  Comp.  my  ' '  Vorstudien 
zu  einer  Geschichte  der  Liebesthatigkeit  ira  Mittelalter,"  Zeitschrift  fiir 
Kirchengesch.  iv.  1. — (2)  In  the  Middle  Ages  the  seven  works  of  mercy 
were  comprised  in  a  versus  meviorialis  :  "  Vestio,  poto,  cibo,  redimo,  tego, 
coUigo,  condo,"  and  besides  these  eleemosynce  corporales,  were  also  placed 
seven  eleemosynae  spirituales  :  "  Consule,  carpe,  doce,  solare,  remitte,  fer, 
ora,"  to  advise,  admonish,  teach,  and  comfort  one's  neighbour,  to  forgive 
him,  bear  with  him  patiently  and  pray  for  him.  This  whole  method  of 
teaching  is  already  hinted  at  by  Augustine. — (3)  Comp.  the  excellent 
saying  of  Nitzsch,  Pract.  Theol.  i.  1,  p.  214:  "  Christianity  could  not 
but  become  habitual  love  of  the  poor  and  active  compassion,  just  because 
human  nature  and  personality  were  regarded  according  to  a  higher  destina- 
tion than  a  merely  worldly  one." — (4)  The  Vulgate  translates  the  words 
Tfl!  f»o»ra,  which  must  either  be  understood  as  "  what  is  in  it  "  (nnmely  in 
the  cup  and  platter),  or  with  Luther,  "  what  there  is,"  by  the  words  "  (luod 
$u^eresi."    This  view  alieady  appears  in  Jerome,  Epp.  150.     Whatever  is 

2  c 


402  NOTES. 

left  beyond  what  is  necessary  for  food  and  clothing,  you  owe  to  the  poor. 
So,  too,  Augustine,  p.  249,  de  temp.:  "Quidquid  excepto  victu  mediocri  et 
vestitu  rationabili  superfuerit,  non  luxuriae  reservetur  sed  in  ccelesti 
thesauro  per  eleeniosynas  pauperum  reponetur."  Comp.  p.  219,  de  temp,  in 
Ps.  cxlvii.     In  the  Middle  Ages  this  was  the  sole  prevailing  interpretation. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

(1)  So  e.g.  Lohe  in  his  work  On  Mercy,  Nordlingen  1877  ;  also  Chatel 
in  his  above-named  work,  p.  53  ;  Eatzingcr,  p.  33,  also  lias  a  correct  view. 
Comp.  on  this  question  in  general,  its  thorough  discussion  in  Ritschl's 
Entstehung  der  altkathol.  Kirche,  p.  354. — (2)  Comp.  e.g.  Acts  xx.  24,  xxi. 
19  ;  Rom.  xi.  13,  xv.  31  ;  1  Cor.  xii.  5  ;  2  Cor.  iii.  8,  9,  iv.  1,  v.  18  ; 
Eph.  iii.  7 ;  1  Thess.  iii.  2  ;  1  Tim.  iii.  10,  13  ;  1  Pet.  i.  12,  iv.  10.— (3) 
1  Cor.  xii.  28,  'AvTiXr,^us  >iv^if>vr,ini;.  This  corresponds  also  with  clas.sical' 
usage.     AiaKuvtai  ^ti/nariai  are  in  Demosthenes  :  Munera  publica  et  adminis- 

trationes  publics;. — (4)  "xai  tl;  ^laxoviaf  to?;  aylois  iTa^acy    iaWT-ov;,"    Ritschl 

(above-named  work,  p.  348)  understands  the  passage  so  as  to  make  them 
the  presidents  of  the  Church.  But  the  plural  seems  to  include  women 
also,  hence  it  seems  to  me  more  correct  to  think  of  a  ministration  of 
service.  So,  too,  should  I  understand  Col.  iv.  17. — (5)  My  reasons  are 
these : — (a)  That  uaa-urwi  must,  according  to  the  whole  plan  of  the  sentence, 
introduce  a  new  category  of  church  officials;  comp.  ver.  8.  {I))  At  ver.  12 
htixoyei  is  repeated,  but  why  if  ver.  11  too  was  speaking  of  them  ?  This 
is  only  explicable  if  something  else,  certainly  of  a  kindred  nature,  was 
inserted,  and  vers.  12,  13  resume  the  previous  subject,  (c)  The  family 
relations  of  the  deacons  are  first  sjjoken  of,  ver.  12.  {d)  The  wives  of  the 
bishops  are  not  mentioned.  Why  then  the  wives  of  the  deacons  ?  It  is 
said  they  were  of  more  importance  to  church  life.  This  is,  however, 
neither  proved  nor  capable  of  proof,  (e)  If  the  wives  of  the  deacons  were 
designated,  ccurat  would  absolutely  be  found,  if  the  designation  is  to  be 
intelligible.  (/ )  ywaTxa;  may  well  designate  deaconesses.  The  "  haxivovs " 
must  be  completed  from  the  context.  Exactly  similar  is  a  passage  in  the 
Apostolic  Constitutions,  iii.  19:  "'H  yvvti  tus  ywccTxas  trTovSd^ovira  hpa- 
vriuiiv. "  Here  too  the  mere  yv^ri  denotes  the  deaconess,  after  deacons  had 
been  immediately  before  spoken  of.  Where  this  is  not  the  case,  iii.  15, 
*' yvviaxa  hdxavtv  "  stands  in  full.  —  (6)  This  strikingly  accords  with  the 
description  given  in  the  Apostolic  Constitutions  of  the  widows,  whose 
chief  duty  also  is  to  jjray  for  the  congregation. — (7)  That  tlie  passage  is 
not  grammatically  to  be  otherwise  understood,  comp.  Meyer  in  loco,  and 
also  Heinrici.  Certainly  no  other  exposition  would  have  been  arrived 
at,  but  for  the  preconceived  opinion,  that  it  was  unworthy  of  the  apostle 


NOTES.  403 

to  estimate  civil  freedom  so  slightly.  What  we  shall  afterwards  hear  of 
the  attitude  of  the  Church  towards  slavery,  entirely  coincides  with  the 
view  taken  of  this  passage. 


BOOK    SECOND. 

CHAPTER   I. 


(1)  The  population  of  Rome  is  still  very  variously  stated.  I  have  made 
the  computation  of  Marquardt  and  Mommsen  (Rom.  Alterthum.  v.  120) 
the  foundation.  According  to  this  work,  the  population  is  represented  as 
follows : — Roman  citizens,  320,000  ;  women  and  children,  300,000  ;  sena- 
tors and  knights,  10,000  ;  garrison,  20,000  ;  slaves,  900,000  ;  strangers, 
60,000— total,  1,610,000.  Whether  hoys  are  included  in  the  number  of 
those  who  received  the  largess  of  Augustus,  is  very  uncertain.  To  be  (niite 
sure  of  not  painting  too  dark  a  picture  I  have  assumed  this,  and  have 
hence  reduced  the  number  of  women  and  children.  Thus  the  actual  con- 
dition was  formerly  still  more  unfavourable  than  stated  in  the  text. — (2) 
Chrysostomus  Hom.  in  Matt.  Ixvi.  3. — (3)  Comp.  Friedlander,  i.  2S1.— (4) 
Seneca,  de  vit.  heata,  c.  25. — (5)  Martial,  xii.  32. — (6)  Polyb.  i.  15,  comp. 
Boeckh's  above-named  work,  i.  65  sqq.— (7)  Marquardt  and  Jloininscn's 
above-named  work,  v.  2,  82  sqq. — (8)  Suet.  Nero,  Ki  ;  Dio,  62,  14.  Comp. 
Schiller,  Nero,  p.  518.— (9)  Comp.  Friedlander,  iii.  8.— (10)  Petroiiins,  Sat. 
c.  45. — (11)  Comp.  Rodbertus  :  Zur  Ge.schichte  der  rbm.  Trilmtsteuern  seit 
Augustus;  Hildebrand's  Jahrbiicher  fiirNationalbkonomie,  viii.  461  ,sqq. — 
(12)  Hippolyt.  (Pseudo-Origenis)  Philosophumena,  ix.  12. — (13)  .Fuvcnal, 
i  24  ;  X.  224.— (14)  ix.  73.— (15)  Juv.  iii.  32-40  ;  Martial,  iii.  16,  [,9,  90. 
— (16)  Senec.  de  tranquillitate  animi ;  Plin.  H.  N.  xviii.  35  ;  "Latifundia 
perdidere  Italiam." — (17)  Comp.  Streuber  :  Der  Zinsfu^s  bei  den  IJoinern. 
—(18)  Dio,  Ixiii.  2,  3.— Pliny  the  younger  advises  the  Emjieror  Trajan  to 
lend  the  State  funds  under  12  per  cent.,  as  otherwise  no  cre<litors  will 
be  found,  Ep.  62,  63.  Horace,  Sat.  i.  2,  12,  censures  a  u.snrer  who  took 
60  per  cent.— (19)  Comp.  Schiller,  Nero,  p.  488  sqq. —(20)  Pliu.  H.  N. 
vi.  101:  "Tanti  nobis  delicise  et  feminse  constant"  ("So  much  do 
pleasures  and  women  cost  as  "). — (21)  Vopiscus  Probus,  c.  10. 

CHAPTER    II. 

(1)  Justin,  Apolog.  i.  14;  comp.  Barnabas,  Ep.  19,  8.— (2)  Pa.stor.  Ilermao 
Maud,  ii.— (3)  Quis  dives  salvus,  c.  13.— (4)  Barnabas,  Ep.  19.— (5)  Clem- 


404  NOTES. 

Eom.  ad  Cor.  i.  49  ;  Barnab,  c.  19. — (6)  Clement,  Hotnil.  Ep.  Clem.  c. 
8. — (7)  Clem.  Alex.  Strom,  iii.  4,  5. — (8)  In  the  Testaments  of  the  Twelve 
Patriarchs,  belonging  to  Nazarene  circles,  are  frequently  found  opinions 
adverse  to  wealth.  Also  in  the  portions  preserved,  though  touched  up,  in 
Mellitus,  de  passione  S.  Joannis  ap.  (Fabricius,  Apocryph.  N.  T.  iii.  609), 
from  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles  of  Leucius,  which  may  be  of  about  the  middle  of 
the  2nd  centxiry.  Comp.  Zalm,  Acta  Joannis,  p.  xciv.  and  p.  238.  It  is  strik- 
ing, that  the  Clementine  Homilies,  which  certainly  originated  from  Essenic 
Judaic  Christianity,  do  not  reject  property.  It  is  also  one  of  the  points  in 
which  the  author  of  this  book  accommodates  himself  to  the  views  of  the 
Catholic  Church,  in  order  to  gain  room  for  his  Judaeo-Christian  Propaganda, 
and  is  consequently  also  a  sign,  that  the  Church  kept  itself  free  from  such 
views,  which  flourished  only  in  sectarian  narrowness. — (9)  Barn.  Ep.  c.  19, 
8.— (lO)Tertullian,  Apolog.  39.— (11)  Similit.i.— (12)  Hermae  Pastor.  Vis. 
iii.  86.— (13)  Euseb.  H.  E.  v.  3.— (14)  Tertullian,  decultu  fem.  ii.  9.— (15) 
Hermse  Pastor.  Vis.  iii.  2  and  6.— (16)  Tertullian,  Apolog.  42.— (17)  Clem. 
Alex.  Quis  dives  salves,  c.  11,  12. — (18)  Idem,  c.  13,  14. — (19)  Idem,  c. 
82.— (20)  Psedagogus,  ii.  12.— (21)  Pajdagog.  iii.  7.— (22)  Ptedagog.  i.  1. 
—(23)  Pffidagog.  i.  2,  3.— (24)  Tertull.  de  cultu  fem.  i.  8.— (25)  Pffidagog. 
ii.  12.— (26)  Pffidagog.  i.  8.— (27)  Psdagog.  ii.  1.— (28)  Paedagog.  iii.  7. 
—  (29)  Paedagog.  iii.  4.— (30)  Paidagog.  iii.  10,  11,  i.  10.— (31)  Paidagog. 
iii.  10. — (32)  Const.  Apost.  ii.  63. — (33)  Comp.  Cotelier  on  Const.  Apost. 
ii.  63.— (34)  Const.  Apost.  iv.  2.— (35)  Philosophum.  ix.  12.— (36)  Const. 
Apost.  i.  4. — (37)  Cyprian,  Ep.  41  :  "ut  jam  nunc  ego  cui  cura  incumbit, 
omnes  optime  nossem,"  Cypriani  0pp.  Vindobonse  1868. — (38)  Philos.  ix. 
12.  —(39)  Tertullian,  Apolog.  42  ;  ad  uxor.  ii.  4. — (40)  Const.  Apost.  iL 
28.— (41)  Const.  Apost.  ii.  35. 


CHAPTER    III. 

(1)  Comp.  Heinrici,  The  Christian  Church  of  Corinth  and  the  Religious 
Communities  of  the  Greeks,  in  the  Zeitschrift  fiir  wissenschaltliche 
Theologie  1876,  iv.— (2)  Apolog.  c.  39.— (3)  Justin  M.  Apolog.  i.  67. 
This  statement  is  usually  referred  to  the  oblations,  but  then  it  is  not  to 
be  explained  why  Justin  does  not  come  to  the  contributions  till  after  he 
has  concluded  his  description  of  the  Lord's  Supper.  Neither  the  view 
embraced  by  Neander,  that  (K.  G.  i.  2,  p.  387)  the  oblations  were  not 
offered  till  after  the  Lord's  Supper,  nor  Harnack's  (der  christliche  Gemein- 
degottesdienst,  p.  256  sqq. ),  that  Justin  is  not  observing  the  succession  of 
the  transactions,  but  stating  here  what  properly,  according  to  the  sequence 
of  time,  belongs  to  a  former  passage,  is  satisfactory.  \xi  fact  the  oblations 
are  not  spoken  of  at  all  here,  but  stand  in  Justin  in  the  usual  position 


NOTES.  405 

(Sfrtt  vfif^iftriti  MO.)  aim  »m.)  Siup).  Justin  jnst  means  the  contributiona^ 
which  TertuUian  calls  stips  and  describes  them  exactly  as  he  does.  Even 
the  several  words  remind  us  of  TertuUian,  e.rj.  the  "  ri  «rj/XXi>»^i,«  -rufk 
<r/i»i*T«Ti  i'Torlftreu  "  of  TertuUian 's  words,  "  hjec  quasi  deposita  pietatis 
sunt."— (4)  Cyprian,  Ep.  64,  3,  where  it  is  said  of  the  apostate  bishops, 
who  still  desired  to  continue  in  office,  "stipes  et  oblationes  et  lucra 
desiderant."  Also  de  op.  et  eleemos.  14:  "  Locuples  et  dives  es,  et  do- 
minicura  celebrare  te  credis,  quje  corban  omnino  non  respicis  quaj  in 
dominicum  sine  sacrificio  venis  quae  partem  de  sacrificio,  quod  pauper 
obtulit  sumis,"  Here  corban  non  respicere  relates  to  the  stipn,  mcri/iciuin 
is  the  oblation. — (5)  Cyprian's  above  work  ;  comp.  note  4.  Const.  Ai>ost. 
ii.  36,  Katzinger  (in  his  above-named  work,  p.  39)  thinks  it  was  atterwarda 
called  concha,  and  appeals  to  Canon  48  of  the  Cone.  Elib.  This  is  a 
mistake.  Concha  there  means  the  baptismal  basin.  So,  too,  Krauss  in  the 
E.  Encyclop.  of  Christian  Antiquities  under  this  word. — (6)  Const.  Apost. 
iL  36. — (7)  It  is  well  known  that  the  letter  of  Pliny  to  Justin  denotes 
the  time  of  this  transference.  Justin  and  Irenseus  already  know  of  it  at 
no  other  time.  The  custom,  however,  seems  not  to  have  become  at  once 
general,  but  to  have  spread  at  first  gradually.  Even  at  a  later  period  a 
celebration  of  the  Lord's  Supper  was  combined  with  the  agap.-e.  Eus. 
H.  E.  19;  Angustin,  ep.  ad  Januarium. — (8)  Comp.  Harnack'salwve-named 
work,  p.  285. — (9)  Liturgia  divi  Marci  in  Bunsen's  Anal.  Antiniciena, 
iii.  163.  In  the  liturgy  of  St.  Basil  the  prayer  runs :  "Lord,  remember  those 
who  offer  these  gifts,  and  those  for  whom  and  for  whose  sake  and  for  whose 
profit  they  offer  them.  Lord,  think  of  those  who  bring  forth  fruit  and  do 
good  works  in  Thy  holy  Church,  and  who  remember  tlie  poor.  Kequite 
them  with  Thy  treasures  and  Thy  heavenly  gifts.  Give  them  for  the 
earthly  the  heavenly,  for  the  temporal  the  eternal,  for  tlie  corruptible  the 
incorruptible,"  Bunsen,  iii.  226;  comp.  also  Const.  Aj)ost.  viii.  10.— (10) 
Cone.  Elib.  can.  49. — (11)  Const.  Apost.  iii.  4  ;  viii.  13.— (12)  Polycarp, 
ad  Philip,  c.  4.— (13)  Clem.  Rom.  i.  59.— (14)  Const.  Apost.  viii.  10.— 
(15)  Comp.  the  Liturgia  Marci,  Bunsen,  iii.  188.  Similar  words  are  also 
found  in  the  Coptic  liturgy.— (16)  Comp.  also  Hofling,  Lthre  vom  Opfer, 
p.  156  sqq.— (17)  Irenseus,  adv.  Hajr.  iv.  18,  2.— (18)  Cypr.  Ep.  15,  34. 
—(19)  Const.  Apost.  iv.  8,  10.— (20)  TertuUian,  de  praser.  Hair.  c.  20.— 
(21)  Apol.  i.  13.— (22)  Adv.  Hair.  iv.  17.— (23)  Strom,  vii.  6.— r24) 
Comp.  Ritschl's  above-named  work,  p.  397.— (25)  Tertull.  de  monogam. 
c.  10;  de  exhortat.  castit.  c.  11;  de  corona  mil.  c.  3.— (26)  Cyprian, 
ep.  1.— (27)  Cypr.  Ep.  60  at  the  end.— (28)  Origeiies,  TfJ  tvx«'.  c  11.— 
TertuUian,  de  monog.  c.  10.  The  refreshment  (reirigerium)  is  not  a  miti- 
gation of  punishment  in  purgatory,  of  this  TertuUian  as  yet  knows  notliing, 
but  eternal  happiness.— (29)  TertuUian,  ad  uxor.  ii.  8,  where  it  is  said, 
matrimoniam    confirmat    oblatio    et  obsignat   benedictio. — (30)   Couip 


406  NOTES. 

Haraack's  above-named  work,  p.  393  sqq.— (31)  In  Levit.  ii.  4. — (32) 
Cyprian,  de  op.  et  eleemosj'n.  c.  i.  2. — (33)  Cyprian,  de  domin.  oratio, 
c.  82. — (34)  Cyprian,  de  op.  et  eleemosyn.  c.  5. — (35)  Com  p.  above, 
p.  28.  Examples:  a  statue,  Or.  1572,  1971,  2086;  a  monument,  13, 
1348,    1380,    2022  ;  a   bridge,  760  ;    a  temple,    5659.— (36)  De  jejuniis, 

c.  13. — (37)  Const.  Apost.  iv.  8.  The  same  injunction  is  found  in 
Hom.  Clem.  iii.  71,  a  sign  that  this  was  a  general  mode  of  procedure. 
—(38)  Cyprian,  Ep.  62.— (39)  Vita  Cypriani,  c.  2.— (40)  Cypriani  Ep.  7  ; 
comp.  Vita,  c.  15.— (41)  Euseb.  H.  E.  iii.  37.— (42)  Const.  Apost.. v.  7: 
"'E«  rau  KBTcv  xai  in  rou  lypatros/' — (43)  Sim.  V.  3. — (44)  Levit.  X. — 
(45)  Const.  Apost.  v.  1. — (46)  Similar  acts  are  also  met  with  in  ancient 
times.  The  whole  population  of  Sparta  fasted  and  gave  what  was 
thus  spared  to  assist  the  Samnites,  who  were  seeking  to  reconquer 
their  native  land.    Aristot.  (Econ.  ii.  2,  9  ;  comp.  Bojckh's  Staatshaushalt 

d.  Ath.  ii.  131.— (47)  Iren.  adv.  Ha^r.  iv.  18,  34.— (48)  Cyprian,  de  cathol. 
eccl.  unitate,  c.  26.— (49)  Origenes  in  Num.  Hom.  xi.  1  ;  in  librum 
Josue  Nave,  Hom.  xvii.  ;  comp.  in  Prov.  iii.  9. — (50)  Lagarde,  Reliq.  jur. 
ant.  p.  88.— (51)  Can.  Hipp.  36.— (52)  Const.  Apost.  ii.  34,  35  ;  vii.  29.— 
(53)  Euseb.  H.  E.  vi.  43.  The  sum  supposed  in  the  text  is  purposely 
very  low.  In  the  first  century,  the  cost  of  a  slave's  maintenance  is 
computed  to  have  been  £7,  10s.  (Marquardt  and  Mommsen,  v.  52).  If 
we  take  this  sum  for  granted,  it  would  amount  to  £11,250  per  annum. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

(1)  Valens,  a  deacon,  embezzles  some  of  the  money  for  the  poor.  Polyc. 
Ep.  ad  Phil,  c,  11,  12;  comp.  Herm.  Past.  Sim.  ix.  26.— (2)  Polyc.  Ep. 
ad  Phil.  c.  6.— (3)  Herm.  Past.  Sim.  ix.  27.— (4)  Cyprian,  Ep.  41. -.-(5) 
Cyprian,  Ep.  5. — (6)  Cyprian,  Ep.  7.— (7)  Anastasius,  Vit.  Pontif.  p.  21 
(Romae  1728). — (8)  Ambrosius,  de  off.  min.  ii.  28. — (9)  Const.  Apost.  ii. 
26,  31.— (10)  Const.  Apost.  ii.  35,  3,  25.— (11)  Euseb.  H.  E.  vi.  43.— 
Sozomenus,  H.  E.  vii.  19. — (12)  Cone.  Neocaesar.  can.  15.  The  canon 
appeals  to  the  Seven  in  Jerusalem. — (13)  Const.  Apost.  iii.  19.  The 
number  is  to  be  in  proportion  to  the  size  of  the  Church,  that  so  they  may 
be  able  to  support  the  weak,  as  workmen  in  whom  there  is  nothing  to 
blame. — (14)  Euseb.  H.  E.  vi.  43. — (15)  The  older  books  of  the  Const. 
Apost.  are  unacquainted  with  them,  they  are  first  mentioned  in  the  post- 
Constantinian  eighth  book. — (16)  Const.  Apost.  ii.  44. — (17)  Const.  Apost. 
iii.  19  ;  ii.  31,  32. — (18)  Const.  Apost.  ii.  44.  Thematricula  is  expressly 
mentioned  in  Ep.  Clem.  c.  151  ;  it  is,  however,  doubtful  what  date  should  be 
ascribed  to  this  book.  But  Cypr.  Ep.  2,  where  the  admission  of  an  actor 
who  had  become  a  Christian  is  spoken  of,  certainly  gives  the  impressioa 


NOTES.  407 

that  a  matricnla  was  then  kept.— (19)  In  Philosoph.  ix.  12  is  also  found 
a  similar  allusion.  At  any  rate  there  was  a  list  of  the  widows  to  be 
maintained,  and  a  general  catalogue  of  all  to  be  relieved  would  soon  be 
made. — (20)  The  BlfiXnt  KX>j^!»t9,-  is  found  in  Lagarde's  Reliq.  p.  80  sqq. 
To  what  date  it  belongs  is  uncertain.  Buiisen  ascribes  it  to  the  reign  of 
Caracalla  and  Geta,  whom  he  finds  in  the  book.  This  can  liardly  bo 
correct.  In  its  present  form,  I  feel  incliued  rather  to  regard  it  as  contem- 
poraneous with  Book  viii.  of  the  Apost.  Constitutions.  To  this  date  the 
injunction  to  communicate  fasting  points.  It,  however,  evidently  contains 
older  passages. — (21)  Const.  Apost.  iii.  7. — (22)  Certain  remarks  of  Zahn 
in  his  "Ignatius  von  Antiochen,"  pp.  148,  325,  and  above  all  DieckhotTs 
excellent  treatise  "die  Diakonissen  der  alten  Kirche,"  in  Scluifer's  Monat- 
schr.  f.  Diakonie,  289,  348,  391,  have  for  the  first  time  thrown  more 
light  upon  the  history  of  the  ancient  deaconesses.  But  much  still 
remains  obscure.  Dieckhoff  especially  has  so  far  not  yet  disengaged  himself 
from  the  former  view,  as  still  to  suppose  that  there  were  sul)se([uently 
also  deaconesses  in  the  West. — (23)  Plin.  Ep.  x.  97  :  "Quo  magis  neces- 
sarium  credidi,  ex  duabus  ancillis,  qu»  ministrae  (deaconesses)  dicebantur, 
quid  esset  veri  et  per  tormenta  quasrere."  —  (24)  In  Luc.  Honi.  17. — 
(25)  Ignatius,  ad  Smyrn.  6  ;  ad  Polyc.  4  ;  Polyc.  Ep.  ad  Pliil.  c.  4.  The 
much  discussed  passage  in  Ignat.  ad  Smym.  c.  13:  " ' AffTecX^fim  rat 
•ra.ftwvi,  rai  Xtyo/iitas  x'^fi(,'^  I  consider  corrupt  and  in  the  jireseiit  text 
unmeaning.— (26)  Vis.  iu  4.— (27)  Hom.  xi.  36;  Recogn.  iv.  15.— (28) 
Psedag.  iii.  12. — (29)  Orig.  in  evang.  Joann.  Hom.  17,  in  Jes.  Horn.  6. — 
(30)  TertuU.  ad  uxor.  i.  7  :  "cumviduam  adlegi  in  ordinem  nisi  univirani 
non  concedit."  De  virg.  vel.  c.  9  ;  de  exhortat.  castit.  c.  7.— (31)  Terlull. 
de  monog.  c.  11. — (32)  Origen,  in  Jes.  Hom.  6.  Quito  so  subscpiently 
the  Cone.  Carthag.  can.  12.— (33)  Lucian,  de  morte  Peregrini,  c.  12.— 
(34)  Grapte  also  in  Hermas,  Vis.  ii.  4,  appears  as  commissioned  with  the 
instruction  of  orphans. — (35)  Const.  Apost.  iii.  1,  3,  5,  7,  14,  15.— (36) 
The  Ataralut  of  Hippolytus  in  Lagarde's  Reliq.  p.  5.— (37)  Ignatius  ad 
Tarsenses,  c.  9  ;  ad  Antioch.  c.  12.— (38)  Tertull.  de  virg.  vel.  c.  9.— (39) 
Clem.  Alex.  Strom,  vii.  12  (ed  Potter,  p.  875)  :  "'H  x'if'^  ^'«  r^fftfi.r.i 
mZSis  «-«^£.«."— (40)  Epiphanius,  Expos,  fidei,  c.  21  ;  Const.  Apost.  vi. 
17._(41)  Const.  Apost.  iii.  15.  It  is  complained  that  the  widows  stroll 
about  and  gossip,  that  they  beg,  are  shameless  in  begging,  insjitiable  in 
taking,  so  that  by  such  behaviour  they  have  already  made  many  believers 
slack°in  giving.  They  are  then  threatened  with  pnni.shnicnt,  espci^illy 
with  that  of  fasting;  comp.  iii.  7.— (42)  ^*rayx)  «-'  J/i  KXr>..T»,-  in 
Lagarde,  Reliq.  p.  78:  "««i  •'  rUm.  Wtfa  ^ovX^ir,  ifyayah.y."  The  text 
gives  thus  no  meaning.  According  to  Bunsen,  the  Syriae  translation  has  the 
addition  :  «/  ./V.  xari  ri>  *f<,fv^.U,  alrr.,,  which  brings  out  the  meaning 
given. -(43)  Lagarde,  Reliq.   p.    79. -(44)  iii.  15.-(45)  Epiph.  Expos. 


408  NOTES. 

fid.  C.  21  :  "  Kai  ^laxaviiTirai  Si  xafiffTavrai  s'n  v^iptfiat  yvixitSt  fiiin.  \ii  T»i» 
vtlivirnTO,  at  Xf^'""'  ''■"■'""■'talri  Xourfou  svjxa  »  ivurxiypiaif  ffufiara)*." — (46) 
Lagarcle,  Reliq.  p.  74. — (47)  Const.  Apost.  iii.  15. — Const,  ii.  25  has  the 
plural,  but  the  passage  has  also  certainly  been  retouched,  as  even  the 
reference  to  the  persecutions  having  passed  over  shows. — (48)  So  I  under- 
stand the  canon  when  it  says,  that  the  deaconesses  who  turn  to  the  Catholic 
Church  retain  their  dignity.  "  We  speak,  however,  of  such  deaconesses 
as  have  been  regularly  ordained  ;  if  any  have  received  no  ordination,  they 
are  to  be  treated  entirely  as  laity." — (49)  Jerome  on  Romans  xvi.  1  : 
"  Sicut  etiam  in  Orientalibus  diaconissaj  mulieres  in  suo  se.xu  niinistrare 
videntur  in  baptismo  sive  in  luinisterio  verbi,  quia  privatim  docuisse 
feminas  invenimus  sicut  Priscilla  ;"  ad  Tim.  iii.  1  :  "Similiter  eas  ut 
diaconos  eligi  jubet. — Unde  intelligitur,  quod  de  his  dicat,  quae  hodie  in 
Oriente  diaconissas  appellant. "  These  pas.sages  evidently  prove  that  the 
institution  of  deaconesses  was,  at  least  in  Jerome's  time,  peculiar  to  the 
East,  and  on  the  other  hand  was  unknown  in  the  West.  We  may  infer 
the  state  of  things  in  the  East  from  the  following  passage,  Ep.  ii.  ad 
Nepotianum  :  "Multas  anus  nutrit  ecclesia,  quiB  et  ofticium  prsebeant  et 
beneficium  accipiant  miuistrando,  ut  intirmitas  quoque  tua  fructum  habeat 
eleemosynse."  Certainly  deaconesses  are  subsequently  mentioned  also  in 
Gallic  synods.  Council  of  Orange  (441),  can.  26:  "Diaconse  omnimodo 
non  ordinandae,  si  quae  jam  sunt,"  etc.  ;  Epaon  (517),  can.  21  :  "  Viduarum 
consecrationem,  quas  diaconas  vocitant,  ab  omni  regione  nostra  penitus 
abrogamus  ;  "  Orleans  (533) :  "  Placuit  etiam  ut  nulli  postmodum  femiute 
diaconalis  benedictio  pro  conditionis  hujus  fragilitate  credatur  ;  "  Worms, 
can.  73.  Fortunatus  also  tells  us,  in  the  Vita  Kadegundis  (Surius  Aug.  xiii. ) 
of  Bishop  Medardus,  that  "  feminam  manu  superposita  consecravit 
diaconam."  Except  in  Gaul,  the  only  trace  is  found  in  a  quite  isolated 
mention  in  a  Romish  Council  of  721.  Hence  I  feel  certain,  that  in  the  rest 
of  the  West  there  were  no  deaconeases.  It  is  just  possible  that  the  institu- 
tion passed  over  into  the  Gallic  Church,  which  had  special  relations  with  the 
East.  1  scarcely  even  think  this,  but  suppose  that  the  so-called  diaconce 
in  Gaul  were  only  widows  and  sanctimoniales  whom  those  acquainted 
with  the  Oriental  deaconesses  called  by  this  name  as  resembling  them. 
In  this  respect  can.  21  of  Epaon,  which  says  precisely  this,  is  conclusive. 
With  it  entirely  agrees  can.  12  of  the  Cone.  Carthag.  iv.,  which  exhibits 
the  "  viduai  vel  sanctimoniales  "  as  entrusted  with  the  services  elsewhere 
performed  by  deacones.ses.  It  is  also  to  be  observed  that  all  these  canons 
are  but  the  echo  of  can.  xi.  of  Laodieea,  which  relates  to  widows.  Nor 
would  it  be  intelligible  why  the  institution  of  deaconesses  should  have 
been  abolished  in  the  West  (and  it  should  be  remarked  that  the  above 
canons  deal  with  its  abolition),  while  it  was  still  in  a  very  flouri.shing 
condition  in  the  East.     All  is,  however,  consistent  if  the  "diaconse  "  are 


NOTES.  409 

widows,  since  the  institution  of  widows  was  abolished  at  the  same  time 
in  the  East  also.  Lastly,  all  other  church  dignities  are  found  mentioned 
in  epitaphs  of  Italy,  Spain,  Africa,  and  Gaul,  but  not  once  a  deaconess, 
with  the  exception  of  the  one  case  quoted  in  the  text.  It  is  esjjecially 
important,  that  also  in  Le  Rlant's  extremely  careful  work,  Les  inscriptions 
chretiennes  de  la  Gaule,  also  a  deacomss  never  occurs. — (50)  C.  Inscr. 
V.  2,  6467.  The  inscription  is  from  Ticinuin,  "  Hie  in  pace  ijuicscit  B. 
M.  Theodora  diaconissa  quae  vixit  in  scculo  aiinos  pi.  ni.  xlviii."  Its 
date  is  539. — (51)  Const.  Apost.  viii.  31.  — (52)  So  especially  Cone. 
Nicaen.  c.  19. — (53)  Matthieus  Blastaras  im  Syntagma,  c.  11  ;  conip. 
Ziegler,  de  diaconis  et  diaconissis,  p.  362.  Const.  Apost.  viii.  20. — (54) 
Const.  Apost.  ii.  57  ;  viii.  28.  Lagarde,  Reliq.  p.  89. — (55)  Const.  Apost. 
iii.  15,  16  ;  viii.  28.  Aiaral'/y  of  Hippolytus  in  Lagarde,  p.  9  ;  Jerome  on 
Rom.  xvi.  1. — (56)  Cone.  Carthag.  iv.  can.  12. — (57)  Ligardc,  Reliq.  p. 
89.— (58)  Const.  Apost.  iii.  15.— (59)  Const.  Apost.  ii.  7.— (60)  Const. 
Apost.  iii.  19.  Dieckhoff  (in  his  above-named  work,  p.  405)  does  not 
refer  this  passage  to  deaconesses,  but,  incorrectlj'  as  I  think,  to  the  wives 
of  deacons.  Epiphanius,  too,  Haeres.  79,  3,  and  expos,  fid.  c.  21  (coiup. 
note  45  above),  treats  (against  Dieckholf,  p.  406)  of  attendance  on  the 
sick  by  deaconesses.     Aeurftr  here  is  medicinal  waters. 


CHAPTER  V. 

(1)  Const.  Apost.  iv.  2.     Quite  similarly  Clem.  Horn.  ep.  Clem.  c.  8. 

(2)  Const.  Apost  ii.   4. — (3)  Const.  Apost    iv.    3.     There   is  a  quite 

similar  passage  in  Clem.  Alex.  Fragm.  Comm.  in  Matt.  v.  42. — (4) 
Const  Apost  ii.  26  ;  iiL  7  ;  iv.  3.— (5)  Cyprian,  ep.  2.  — (6)  Ad  Cor.  i.  38. 
—  (7)  Can.  Hippolyt  32. —(8)  Philosoph.  ix.  12. —(9)  Const.  A{K)st 
iv.  2.— (10)  Tertullian,  Apolog.  39.— (11)  TertuU.  de  jejun.  17.— (12) 
Clem.  Alex.  Pfedag.  ii.  1.— (13)  Const  Apost.  ii.  28.— (14)  BlSx,,,  KXvf*. 
in  Lagarde,  p.  88  ;  Hippol.  c.  32  ;  Const  Apost.  ii.  28.— (15)  Zahn's 
Ignatius  of  Antioch,  p.  336.  T*  x*'f"^"  ^  "^^^  *  house  for  widows,  but  the 
order  of  widows,  the  Viduage.— (16)  Const  Apost  iii.  1,  2.— (17)  Const 
Apost  iii.  5 :  "  The  widow  is  to  think  of  nothing  but  praying  lor  the 
givers  and  the  whole  Church;  "  Const  Apost.  iii  13.— (IS)  Const.  AjKist 
iv.  2.— (19)  Euseb.  H,  E.  vi.  2.— (20)  Euseb.  H.  E.  v.  17.— (21)  Euseb. 
de  mart  Palaest  c.  11.— (22)  Const  Apost  iv.  1.— (23)  TertuU.  Apolog.  9. 
—(24)  Inst.  vi.  20.  —  (25)  Can.  24.  —  (26)  Laganle,  Rdiq.  p.  84  ;  comp. 
also  p.  164  above. -(27)  Vita  Cyi>riani,  c.  9,  10.-(2S)  Cyprian,  ad 
Demetrianum,  c.  10.— (29)  Id.  c.  11.— <30)  ViU  Cyiaiani,  c.  10.-(31) 
Id.  c.  9.— (32)  Euseb.  H.  E.  vii.  22.— (33)  Euseb.  II.  E.  ix.  8.- (34) 
Instit.  vi,  12.— (35)  Ignatius,  ad  Smym.  c.  6;  Const  Apost  iv.  9.— (36) 


410  NOTES. 

Comp.  on  slaves,  Overbeck's  article  in  the  Studien  zur  Geschichte  d.  alten 
Kirche,  i.  p.  158  sqq.— (37)  Orat,  c.  11.— (38)  Tertull.  de  corona  mil.  13.— 
(39)  Instit.  V.  15.— (40)  Const.  Apost.  ii.  62.— (41)  Const.  Apost  iv.  9.— 
(42)  Ignatius  ad  Polyc.  c.  4. — (43)  Psedag.  iii.  11. — (44)  Contra  Celsum,  iii. 
49.— (45)  Id.  iii.  55.— (46)  Const.  Apost.  viii.  32;  Lagarde,  Reliq.  p.  87. 
— (47)  I'etrus,  Alex,  lib.  de  poenit.  can.  6,  7,  in  Routh,  Reliq.  iv.  29. — 
(48)  Const.  Apost.  iv,  6.— (49)  Cone.  Elib.  can.  5s  — (50)  Cypr.  ep.  12.— 
(51)  Cypr,  ep,  14;  comp.  ep,  5,  7. — (52)  Comp.  above,  p.  40. — (53) 
Cyprian,  ep,  5, 12,  14,— (54)  Const,  Apost.  iv.  9  ;  v.  1.— (55)  Euseb.  H.  E. 
iv.  23,— (56)  Cyprian,  ep.  76-79.— (57)  Instit.  vi.  12.— (58)  Id.— (59) 
Euseb,  H.  E.  iv.  26.— (60)  Clem,  ad  Cor.  i.  11,  12  ;  Herinse  Past.  Sim. 
ix.  27.— (61)  Const.  Apost.  ii.  3.— (62)  Cyprian,  ep.  7,  8,  etc.— (63)  Ep. 
ad  Cor.  c.  1.— (64)  Euseb.  H,  E.  iv.  23.— (65)  In  the  oft-named  B//3a/»v 
KX«(tt£VT«f  (Lagarde,  Reliq.  p.  80)  a  ^avli^^tToy  certainly  occurs,  but  it  is 
an  ordinary  inn,  such  as  existed  for  travellers  of  the  lower  class. 
Ratzinger  (in  his  above-named  work)  speaks  of  a  special  fund  for  strangers. 
But  Const.  Apost.  ii.  38  does  not  prove  its  existence.  The  expenses  of 
lodging,  when  a  member  of  the  Church  did  not  undertake  it,  were  met 
from  the  Church  fund. — (66)  Ad  ux.  ii,  4,— «(67)  Comp.  Herzog's  Real- 
Enc.  under  the  word  liters  formatfe. — (68)  Comp.  on  the  whole  section 
Zahn,  Christenthum  und  Weltsverkehr  in  dem  ersten  Jahrliunderten, — 
(69)  Basil,  ep,  70,— (70)  Euseb.  H.  E.  iv,  23,— (71)  Athenagoras,  Legatio, 
C.  11.— (72)  TertuU.  Apolog.  c.  39. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

(1)  Tertull,  de  virg,  vel,  c,  1  ;  comp.  on  Montanism  in  general,  Ritschl, 
altkathol,  Kirche,  p.  462  sqq.— (2)  Hase,  K.  G.  §  70.— (3)  The  distinction 
between  commandments  and  counsels  is  generally  already  found  in  Past. 
Hermse,  Sim,  v,  3,  where  I  cannot  as  yet  find  it,  but  only  the  contrast 
between  what  is  always  required  and  what  is  required  under  special 
circumstances,  but  under  these  from  all. — (4)  Orig.  in  Num.  xi,  3  ;  ad 
Rom.  iii.  (ed,  de  la  Rue,  iv,  507). —  (5)  Cyprian,  de  habitu  virg.  c.  23. — 
(6)  Origenes  ad  Matt.  xv.  15  sqq.— (7)  Strom,  vii.  12,  70.— (8)  Origenes 
in  Lev,  xi.  1, — (9)  Cyprian,  de  habitu  virg,  c.  11. — (10)  Cyprian,  ad 
Donatum,  c.  12, — (11)  Cyprian,  de  lapsis,  35.— (12)  Id.  c.  11. — (13)  Clem, 
Rom.  ad  Cor,  i.  50.— (14)  Barnab.  Ep,  19,  8.— (15)  Hermae  Pastor.  Sim, 
ii. — (16)  Origenes  in  Lev,  horn,  ii.  4. — (17)  Cyprian,  de  op.  et  eleem.  c,  1. 
— (18)  Cyprian,  de  orat.  domin.  c,  32, — (19)  Cyprian,  de  op.  et  eleem.  c. 
2,  5,— (20)  Id.  c.  2.— (21)  Id.  c.  6,— (22)  Clem.  Rom.  Ep.  ii.  16,  4,- (23) 
Const.  Apost,  vii.  12 ;  Lactantius,  Instit.  vi.  12,  41  ;  Cyprian,  de  op.  et 
eleem.  c.  26. 


NOTES.  4H 


BOOK    THIRD. 

CHAPTER    I. 

(1)  Compare  on  this  whole  period,  especially  Kichter,  Gcschichto  des 
westromischen  Reiches.— (2)  Amniiamis  Marcelliim.s,  litr.  gost.  xxx.  4.— 
(3)  Comp.  besides  Richter  Ozanain,  Etudes  Ger'naniqucs,  {.''343  sqq.— (4) 
Ambrosius,  Oratio  funebria  de  morte  Tlieodosii  M.  (Ojip.  Paris  1569,  p, 
491).— (5)  Compare  Harnack's  lecture  on  Monacliism.  — (G)  Salvian.'do 
gubernat.  iv.  4.— (7)  Salvian,  de  gubernat.  v.  pp.  148,  155.— (8)  Zosimus, 
Hist.  ii.  38.— (9)  Basilius,  Horn,  in  div.  c.  5.— (10)  Palladius,  Hist.  Laus] 
c.  36.— (11)  Comp.  on  this,  Hegel,  Gesch.  der  Stadtverra.ssung  von 
Italien,  i.  79  ;  Kuhn,  Die  stadtische  mid  biirgerlicho  Verfassuiig  des 
Rom.  Reiches,  i.  77  sqq.— (12)  Comp.  Rodbertu.s  on  the  history  of  the 
agrarian  development  of  Rome  in  Hildebrand's  Jalirb.  ii.  1S64,  p.  239 
sqq.— (13)  De  gubern.  vii.  1.— (14)  Ambrosius,  de  Nubuthe,  lib.  e.  1.— 
(15)  Compare  in  general  Dureau  de  la  Malle,  Economic  p()liti(pie  des 
Eomains,  voL  ii.— (16)  Gregor.  M.  Horn,  in  Ezech.  18,  horn.  ult. 


CHAPTER    II. 

(1)  Theodoret,  H.  E.  1,  10.  Julian  abolished  this  award.  His  successor 
restored  it,  but  only  to  one-third  the  amount.  The  financial  condition  of 
the  State  had  already  considerably  deteriorated.  Besides,  the  su[i]dy  of 
corn  was  not  appointed  directly  for  the  poor,  but  for  the  Chunh  and  its 
ministers,  including  virgins  and  widows. — (2)  Chrysostom  in  Matt.  Horn. 
66  :  "»  xaraXoyo;  ;"  and  in  1  Cor.  Horn.  21  :  "  Tav  iyyiyifiivut  TiiTiTut  raf 
iyixas  ;  "  Joann.  Diaconi  Vita  Gregorii  M.  ii.  28  ;  comp.  Ducange  under 
the  word  matricula  egenorum. —  (3)  The  diakonia  were  also  called 
matriculae,  because  the  poor  entered  in  the  matricula,  hence  called  the 
matricularii,  were  there  provided  for.  They  were  a  kind  of  xcnodoi'ii.i 
or  ptochia.  Comp.  Ducange  under  the  word  diaconia.  Baronius  in 
martyrolog.  ad  d.  8  Aug.  ;  comp.  Ziegler,  de  diaconis,  p.  36. — (4)  Can.  14 
of  the  Synod  of  Neocaesarea,  Nov.  3,  c.  1. — (5)  Can.  62  of  Nicaui,  "  ut  siiit 
septeni  diaconi,  qui  eccle.siae  sumptu  vivant  ac  reliqui  gratis  .i.inistnnt. " 
— (6)  Ambrosius,  de  off.  min.  ii.  15,  especially  lays  this  to  the  hearts  of  the 
clergy.— (7)  Chrys.  in  Matt.  Hom.  67.— (8)  Hom.  in  1  Cor.-(9)  AA. 
SS.  ad  23  Ian.  ii.  499.— (10)  Joann.  Diac.  Vita  Gregorii  M.  ii.  28.— (11) 
Gregor.  Nyssa,  de  paup.  amandis,  Or.  2. — (12)  Clirysost.  Scrnio  de  elccm. 
— (13)  Ambrosius,  de  off.  ii.  10.— (14)  Chry.sostomus,  Hom.  in  Matt.  6»J,  3. 
(15)  Epiph.  Haer.  69,  1  ;  Innocentius,  ad  Decent,  c.  5  ;  comp.   Ilingham, 


412  NOTES. 

Origenes,  iii.  599,  In  Constantinople,  Gennadius  first  orders,  that  at  least 
the  oblations  should  be  left  for  the  clergy  of  the  several  churches. 
Excerpt.  Nic.  Callisti,  i.  13. — (16)  Council  of  Laodicea,  can.  57. — (17) 
Sardica,  can.  7.-^(18)  Cod.  can.  eccl.  Afric.  ;  comp.  Hefele,  Concilieugesch. 
iL  115  ;  Council  of  Agde,  c.  53. — (19)  Council  of  Orleans,  can.  15.— (20) 
Can.  11. — (21)  Jerome  on  1  Cor.  xi.  ;  Chrysostoraus,  Horn.  27  in  1  Cor.  ; 
August.  Ep.  54.— (22)  Can.  28.— (23)  August,  Conf.  vi.  2;  Ep.  22.— 
(24)  Cone.  Quinisext.  can.  74. — (25)  Chrys.  in  1  Cor.  Horn.  27  ;  in  Matt. 
Horn.  31. — (26)  This  change  was  effected  in  Constantinople  in  490  (see 
above,  note  15),  and  at  the  same  time  in  Gaul  ;  comp.  Synod  of  Orleans 
(511),  can.  14,  15.  In  the  cathedral  church  the  bishop  received  a  half,  in 
other  churches  a  thh'd. — (27)  Chrysostomus,  Horn.  50  in  Matt.— (28) 
Hieronym.  Ep.  34  ad  Nepotianum. — (29)  Augustinus,  p.  355. — (30)  Salvian, 
de  avaritia,  ii.  48,  ii.  4. — The  clergy,  moreover,  were  not  legally  bound  to 
leave  their  property  to  the  Church. — (31)  De  avaritia,  iv.  133.— (32) 
De  avaritia,  i.  29. — (33)  De  avaritia,  iii.  101. — (34)  De  avaritia,  iii.  80: 
Cessit  sanguini  fides  et  vicerunt  devationem  religionis  jura  pietatis. — (35) 
Zschimmer  (Salvian,  Halle  1875)  has  endeavoured  to  explain  and  justify 
Salvian's  urgency  for  wills  by  the  hypothesis,  that  he  was  striving  against 
a  reform  of  social  relations  upon  an  ascetic  basis,  a  Christian  communism. 
Such  a  hypothesis  is  neither  well  founded  nor-  needed.  Salvian  only 
expresses  in  strong  terms  what,  as  we  shall  afterwards  more  particularly 
see,  was  implicitly  held  during  the  whole  period. — (36)  Clirysostomus, 
Hom.  64  in  Matt.  ;  Hieronym.  Comm.  in  Ezech.  c.  45,  46  ;  August,  p. 
219. — (37)  Synod  of  Antioch  in  Encffiniis,  can.  24  ;  vi.  Carthag.  can.  5  ; 
Cod.  can.  eccl.  Afric.  c.  33.  The  Romish  Synod  under  Symmachus,  502, 
in  Hefele,  ii.  616  ;  Synod  of  Agde,  can.  7,  33,  51  ;  Epaou,  can.  12-17. 
— (38)  Antioch,  can.  25 ;  Agde,  can.  48. — (39)  Agde,  can.  33  ;  Orleans, 
can.  22.— (40)  Council  of  Chalcedon,  can.  26. — (41)  Comp.  Richter,  Gesch. 
d.  westrbm.  Reiches,  p.  339. — (42)  xxvii.  3,  14,  15. — (43)  Ambrosius,  Ep. 
18.  — (44)  Palladius,  Vit.  Chrys.  c.  5.— (45)  Augustinus,  p.  356,  §  13.— 
(46)  Socrates,  viii.  26. — (47)  Cone.  iv.  Carthag.  can.  51 ;  Council  in 
Encaeniis,  can.  25  ;  Carthag.  iv.  can.  15  ;  Con.  Apost.  39. — (48)  Council  of 
Agde,  can.  7. — (49)  Ambrosius,  de  off.  ii.  28. — (50)  August.  Ep.  50. — 
(51)  Gregory  very  specially  promoted  the  division  ;  comp.  Epp.  iii.  11, 
iv.  42,  vi.  49,  xi.  29,  51.— (52)  Joana.  Diac.  Vita  Gregor.  vi.  29.— (53) 
Very  characteristic  is  in  this  connection  the  narrative  found  in  Sozomen, 
vii.  27,  of  Bishop  Epiphanius  of  Cyprus,  who  gave  so  abundantly  out  of  the 
Church  treasury,  that  his  steward  had  often  to  remonstrate  with  him. 
Here  the  steward  only  is  the  medium.  There  is  not  a  word  of  deacons. 
—  (54)  Cone.  Chalc.  can.  xi.  :  "  Ilt^i  tov  ju,ri  isTv  rk;  XiyofiUas  ^pKr^vTiiaf 
Utoi  *ftx.a6vifiivas  h  ix,xy.n(ria.  x,a.6't(rTa,ix6ai."  The  canon  is  very  difi'erently 
understood.     Many  think  of  deaconesses  or  upper  deaconesses  (Hefele). 


NOTES.  418 

But  it  is  impossible  that  the  object  of  the  canon  was  the  abolition  of 
the  institution  of  deaconesses,  which  lasted  for  centuries  longer.  Others 
speak  of  presbyteresses,  but  there  never  were  such.  TfitraCr.iif  are  not 
frfiirfivTipihs  or  TpifffivTiiiat  yuvaixts.  These  existed  only  in  the  sects  (comp. 
Epiph.  Hser.  69).  ■rfitrfHris  is  simply  an  aged  woman  (comp.  Tert.  21 ; 
Const.  Apost.  ii.  57,  iii.  5),  and  denotes  the  aged  widows,  who  in  the 
church  presided  over  the  women  (Ejdph.  79,  4).  The  canon  means 
nothing  else  but  the  entire  abolition  of  the  ancient  institution  of  widows 
in  the  Eastern  Church.— (55)  Basilius,  ep.  199,  c.  24  ;  Chrysost.  on  1  Tim. 
V.  9.  Comp.  DieckhofFs  above-named  work,  p.  399,  notes  54  and  60. 
— (56)  In  Ambrosius,  de  viduis,  c.  2,  5,  much  is  indeed  said  of  tiie  good 
•works  of  widows,  but  nowhere  anything  about  tlicir  olhrial  position  in 
the  Church.  On  Augustine  comp.  Dieckhoff,  p.  400,  note  59.  Can.  12 
ad  Cone.  Carthag.  iv.  still  speaks  of  widows  and  sanctimoniales  (virgins 
living  a  monastic  life)  assisting  at  baptism.  But  tliis  canon  may  be  ot 
older  date  than  Augustine,  the  so-called  canons  of  Carth.  iv.  being  only  a 
collection  of  canons  of  various  councils.  Besides,  even  in  Augustine  we 
see  that  the  sanctimoniales  were  beginning  to  supplant  the  widows.  —  (57) 
Cone.  Araus.  (447),  i.  c.  26  ;  Cone.  Epaon.  (  507),  c.  21  ;  Orleans,  ii. 
(513),  can.  18:  "Placuit  ut  nulli  postmodum  femina;  diaconalis 
benedictio  pro  conditiouis  hujus  fragilitate  credatur." — (58)  Sozom.  viiL 
23. —  (59)  Balsamon,  Resp.  ad  Marci  patriarchaj  Alex,  interrogationem 
85,  The  "inquinatio  menstruorum  "  is  stated  as  a  reason  for  deaconesses 
no  longer  having  "gradnm  ad  alt-tre." — (60)  In  the  Pontificule  Jiico- 
bitarum  it  is  said :  "  Potestatem  intra  altare  nullam  habet  diacoiiissa 
quoniara  et  quando  ordinatur  in  ecclesia  tantum  stat. "  So  too  in  the 
resolutiones  canonicse  of  Jacobus  Edcssenus  :  Ordinatur  non  in  nomine 
altaris  sed  ecclesiae.  They  were  allowed  to  administer  the  communion  to 
children  up  to  the  age  of  five.  They  could  not  minister  at  tlie  altar,  but 
might  place  the  incense,  though  not  utter  the  prayer  aloud  in  so  doing. 
They  washed  the  sacred  vessels  and  read  the  Gospel  in  monasteries  for 
females.  Comp.  Assemani  Bibl.  or.  iii.  P.  2,  p.  847  sqq. — (61)  (^onc.  Trull, 
can.  16.— (62)  Ep.  292.— (63)  De  offic.  ii.  10.— (64)  De  Nabuthe,  c.  8.— (65) 
Ad  Hebr.  Hom.  11.— (66)  Or.  xix.— (67)  Joannes  Diaconus  Vita  Gregor. 
ii  26,  28.— (68)  Cod.  Just.  lib.  ii.  tit.  25.— (69)  Nov.  Tit  ix.  c.  4,  5. 


CHAPTER    III. 

(1)  Chrysost.  S.  de  eleemosynis,  Opp.  iii.248.— (2)  Augiistinus,  S.  62,  12. 
—  (3)  Chrysost.  Hom.  88  in  Matt. —(4)  Gregorius  Nazianz.  de  pau- 
peribus  amandis.  —  (5)  Chrysost.  Hom.  85  in  Matt. —(6)  Augustinus, 
S.  856,  6. — (7)  Compare  the  fine  pa.ssage  in  Chrj'3ostt)m.   Horn.   88  in 


414  NOTES. 

Matt. ,  where  Chrysostora  says  that  they  would  all  give  willingly  to  the 
Lord  if  He  cauie  to  beg  in  person,  but  that  we  ought  to  see  Him  in  the 
poor,  who  supplicate  us. — (8)  Augustin.  S.  83,  2. — (9)  Augustin.  S.  123,  5. 
— (10)  Augustin.  S.  9,  19.  —  (11)  Chrysostomus,  Hem.  iii.  1,  on  penance. 
—(12)  Chrysostomus,  Id.  Horn.  vii.  6. — (13)  Leo  the  Great,  6th  Collection 
Sermon. — (14)  Id.  9th  Sermon. — (15)  Ambrosius,  Sermo  de  eleemosynis, 
c.  30,  31. — (16)  Ambrosius,  de  Elia  et  jejunis,  c.  20.  —  (17)  Augustin. 
S.  42,  1  ;  S.  210,  12  ;  S,  206,  2  ;  S.  83,  2.  —  (18)  Gregor,  M.  Evang, 
1  Hom.  5. — (19)  Salvianus,  de  avaritia,  ii.  64,  65. — (20)  August.  Enchiri- 
dion, xvi.  70, — (21)  August,  de  fide  et  opp.  c.  26. — (22)  Augustin. 
S.  9,  17-19  ;  S.  56.  11,  12.— (23)  Ambrosius,  Sermo  de  eleemosynis,  30,  31, 
— (24")  Gregor.  M.  Moralia  xiii.  ;  Evang.  ii.  Hom.  34  ;  1  Hom.  20.  -(25) 
Caesarius  of  Arelate  in  the  Pseudo  -  Augustinian  Sermons,  S.  142  ;  in 
Augustine  also  the  tlu'ee  weeks  of  fasting,  praying,  and  almsgiving  stand 
together  as  the  three  chief,  S.  9,  11. — (26)  Leo  the  Great,  8th  Collection 
Sermon. — (27)  Id.  11th  Sermon. — (28)  Augustin.  Enchir.  xvi.  72.  ;  Id. 
S.  42,  1,  he  distinguishes  duo  genera  of  alms  "erogando  et  remittendo, 
erogando  quod  habes  bonum,  remittendo  quod  pateris  malum. "  We  find 
here  the  root  of  the  distinction  —  quite  general  in  the  Middle  Ages  — 
between  eleemosynas  corporales  and  spirituales. — (29)  Ambrosius,  de  pcenit. 
ii,  9. — (30)  Augustin.  de  civ.  dei,  xxi.  27. — (31)  Gregorii  M.  curapast.  21. 
—(32)  Leo  the  Great,  Collection  Sermon  6.— (33)  Augustin.  S.  172.— 
34)  Augustin.  Enchirid.  xxvi,  110. — (35)  Comp.  also  Chrysost.  Hom.  27 
in  1  Cor,  ;  Hom.  31  in  Matt.  ;  Hom.  29  in  Act.  Apost.— (36)  Orelli,  4432: 
"Si  quis  post  nostram  pausationem  hoc  sarcofagum  aperire  voluerit 
inferat  ecclesiae  Salon  argenti  libras  quinquaginta."  Examples  of  heathen 
graves,  Or.  4428,  4549. — (37)  Examples  in  Le  Blant,  inscript.  chret.  de  la 
Gaule,  207.  Si  quis  hunc  sepulcrum  violaverit  partem  habeat  cum  Juda 
traditorem — habeat  partem  cum  Gezi — cum  Juda  gemitus  experietur  inops 
— habeat  anathema  ad  cccxviii.  Pat  (the  Council  of  Nicaea) ;  also  in  Angel. 
Maio  Scriptorum  vet.  nova  coUectio  v.  216,  217. — (38)  Chrysostomus,  Hom. 
29  in  acta:  "Efes  i  iti^a  i^u  "jrotui  t^»  avdfi.iir,<riv  rnt  fn^Tfos  n  rris  yvvaTxos  »  I'ou 
ira/S/ou.— (39)  Gregor.  M.  dialog,  iv.  39.— (40)  Id,  iv.  57.— (41)  Id.  iv.  55. 

(42)  Comp.  my  "  Studies  for  a  History  of  Christian  Charity  in  the  Middle 
Ages,"  in    the    Zeitschrift  fiir  kirchliche   Geschichte,    iv.    1,    p.    73.  — 

(43)  Augustin.  p.  104  (Caesarius,  8). — (44)  Sal viau,  de  avaritia,  i.  29. 
Augustin.  Enchirid.  xxvi.  110. — (45)  Gregor.  M.  Mor.  xiii.  21  ;  Epp. 
vii.  25. — (46)  Comp.  Rothe,  Lectures  on  Ch.  Hist.  ii.  33.  Rentu,  Augus- 
tinische  Studien.  Zeitsch.  fiir  K.  Gesch.  iv.  i.  p.  33. — (47)  Couip. 
Ratzinger's  above-named  work,  p.  112 ;  Chatel's  above-named  work, 
p,  203  sqq, — (48)  In  the  homily  on  Luke  xii.  18,  Opp.  ii.  49  sqq. — 
(49)  Ambrosius,  de  Nabuthe,  lib.  c.  1. — (50)  Hieronym.  Ep.  ad.  Hedibium. 
— (51)  Ambrosius  on  Luke  viii,  13. — (52)  Hom.  ad  pop.  Antioch.  Hom.  2. 


NOTES.  415 

(53)  Augustin.  S.  50.— (54)  Chrysost.  in  Matt.  Horn.  90.— Hieronym. 
Ep.  ad  Hedib. — (55)  Euariat.  in  Ps.  cxxxi.  5,  6  :  "  Abstineaiuus  ergo  nos, 
fratres,  a  possessione  rei  privatae  aut  ab  amove  si  iion  possmnus  a 
possessione."— (56)  S.  61,  c.  xi.  12.— (57)  De  oH".  i.  28:  "  Niitura  igitur 
jus  commune  generavit,  usurpatiojus  fecit  privatum.  "—(58)  Chrysostomus, 
Horn.  xi.  in  Acta  Apost. — (59)  August.  S.  219  ;  in  Ps.  cxivii.  ;  S.  249. — 
(60)  Hieronym.  Ep.  150.— '(61)  Comp.  abovf,  Book  i.  chap.  3,  note  4. — 
(62)  De  Nabuthe,  lib.  c.  12.  — (63)  The  impossibility  of  carrying  it  out  is 
proved  by  the  fact,  that  the  ethic  of  the  Middle  Ages  wore  itself  out  at  this 
separation.— (64)  De  off.  i.  9.— (65)  De  off.  i.  32  sqq. ;  ii.  15.— (66)  Ba.sil, 
to  adduce  but  one  example,  had  but  one  tunic  and  one  cloak,  and  slept  on 
the  earth  :  Gregor.  Naz.  Or.  43,  c.  61. — (67)  Comp.  on  JIacrina  :  Greg. 
Nyss.  devita  Macrin.  0pp.  ii.  177  ;  on  Olympias  ;  Biihringer,  Chrysostom 
and  Olympias;  on  Nonna  ;  Ullmann,  Gregory  Naziauzen. — (68)  The 
chief  sources  are  the  letters  of  Jerome,  which,  as  being  well  known,  I 
omit  quoting  particularly. — (69)  Hieronym.  Ep.  27,  ad  Eustochium.^ 
(70)  Hieronym,  Ep.  26,  ad  Pammachium. — (71)  De  Rossi  Inscr.  christian. 
62.— (72)  Corp.  Inscr.  v.  2,  6286.— (73)  Le  Blant,  Inscr.  386.— (74)  Id. 
407,  450.— (75)  Id.  17.— (76)  Id.  425— (77)  Id.  426.— (78)  Id.  451.— 
(79)  Id,  218.— (80)  Id.  516.— (81)  It  is  of  special  interest  to  ascertain 
when  the  formula,  "pro  redemtione,"  or  "pro  remedio  anima',"  after- 
wards so  current,  first  appeared.  Chatel,  in  his  above-named  work, 
appeals  for  its  occurrence  at  this  time  to  Maio  Cull,  script,  vet.  v.  p.  216, 
but  the  inscriptions  there  found  are  of  more  modern  date.  The  one  dated 
inscription  given  in  Le  Blant,  Inscr.  374,  is  the  only  certain  one,  and  this, 
as  at  least  the  oldest  inscription  yet  discovered,  well  deserves  a  place  hero. 
It  is  twofold.     On  the  one  side  is  : — 

Hie  requiescit 
In  pace  boniB 
Memoriae  Arenl)erga 
qui  vixit  aunos  xxvlll 
Obiit  in  puce  viii. 
Kalendas  Maias 
Avicno  viro  cla 
•  rissirao  console. 


On  the  other  :— 


Hie  reliquit 
leberto  puero 
nomine  Mannone 
pro  redenitionem 
aniuiue  suse. 


With  due  regard  to  the  conupt  Latin  often  occurring  in  inscri[>tions,  tha 
words  can  only  mean,  that  Arenberga  gave  freedom  to  a  slave  named  ilanno, 
"pro  redemtione  animae  suae."     Avienus  appears  in  the  consular  Faati 


416  NOTES. 

450,  501,  502.  Even  adopting  the  last  date,  the  inscription  is  the  oldest 
I  know  of,  in  which  the  formula  occurs.  It  is  also  found  in  Paulinas  of 
Nola,  who,  Ep.  xiii.,  congratulates  Pammachius  for  having  cared,  by 
means  of  alms,  for  the  salvation  of  Paulina's  soul.  "Pro  salute"  occurs 
more  frequently.  I  have,  however,  been  able  to  find  no  inscriptions  in 
which  almsgiving  is  mentioned  "jiro  salute  animae,"  but  only  the  building 
of  churches  and  such  acts.  In  Corp.  Inscr.  v.  1583-1616  are  found  a 
number  of  inscriptions  relating  to  the  restoration  of  the  church  of  St. 
Euphemia  in  Aquileia,  undertaken  in  515.  It  is  frequently  said  of  the 
contributors,  that  they  did  thus  "Pro  salute  sua  et  omnium  sanctorum." 
"Willnianus  seems  to  regard  as  Christian  an  inscription  from  Africa.  Corp. 
Inscr.  viii.  8629  :  "  Fl.  Innocentius  num  (mum)  pro  salute  sua  suorumque 
omnium  tesselavit."  I  regard  it,  however,  as  doubtful.  The  formula 
"  pro  salute  "  is  also  heathen,  and  therefore  first  borrowed  by  Christians  ; 
comp.  e.g.  Orelli  1214,  where  some  one  dedicates  an  altar  to  Jupiter 
O.  M.  "pro  salute  sua  suorumque."  Here  too  the  leaning  of  the 
Christian  custom  on  the  heathen  is  visible.  In  the  Corp.  Inscr.  GriBC. 
8616  an  inscription  occurs,  according  to  which  a  certain  Elias  lias  built  a 
martyrium  of  St.  Theodore,  "  v^ip  aifwus  ctftafTiut,"  It  is  of  the  year 
417,  and  comes  from  Syria. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

(1)  Comp.  Haser,  Geschichte  der  Krankenpflege,  p.  3  sqq. — (2)  So 
e.g.  Moreau,  Christophe,  Histoire  de  la  misere,  ii.  236.  Comp.  Ratzinger's 
above-named  work,  p.  93.  Chatel's,  p.  264. — (3)  Morin,  Histoire  critique 
de  la  x>auvrete  in  the  Mem.  de  I'Acad.  des  inscr.  iv.  305.  Comji.  Chatel's 
above-named  work,  p.  265. — (4)  Ratzinger,  who  advocates  this  view 
(p.  25),  quotes  only  one  passage  in  Sozom.  vi.  13  (p.  86,  note  1),  for  the 
existence  of  such  special  rooms  for  strangers  in  the  bishop's  residence, 
but  "  TO  i'TnTKi'Tixey  xarayuyitv "  there  denotes  the  bishop's  dwelling  itself, 
and  there  is  not  a  word  of  a  "  diversorium  "  for  strangers.  Can.  12  of  the 
so-called  Cone.  Cartliag.  iv.  also  proves  nothing. — (5)  In  Pontus,  e.g.,  as 
Epiphanius  (adv.  HiEr.  56)  mentions,  the  |«»«S«;^£ra»  is  called  9rTux''rp'>'P*'"' 
In  Cone.  Chalcedon,  c.  8,  too,  they  are  calli  d  ^Tu^ila. — (6)  St.  Zotikus, 
who  had  already  dejiarted  from  Rome  for  the  new  Rome  on  the  Bosphorus, 
is  said  to  have  founded  there  a  lobotrophium,  which  Constantine  restored 
(comp.  Du  Cange,  Fam.  Byz.  p.  165).  This  is  the  only  example  of  a 
xenodochium  under  Constantine.  The  information,  however,  is  very 
doubtful.  According  to  Du  Cange,  it  is  derived  from  later  sources.  It  is 
also  suspicious  to  find,  that  the  first  institution  of  the  kind  should  have 
been  quite  a  special  one  destined  for  the  maimed  and  for  cripples.     The 


NOTES.  417 

BpnrioTis  canon  70  of  Nicsea  also  sliows  that  there  was  a  tendency  in  later 
times  to  remove  institutions  of  the  kind  to  the  earliest  possible  date. 
The  Apostolical  Constitutions  know  as  yet  of  no  xeiiodochia,  neither  do 
Eusebius  and  Lactantius.— (7)  Sozom.  v.  16.— (8)  Gregor.  Naz.  Or.  30,  in 
laudemBasilii.— (9)  Basilius,  Ep.  143.— (10)  Sozom.  iii.  16.— (11)  Chrysos- 
tomus,  Horn.  66  in  Matth.— (12)  Palladii  Vit.  Cbrys.  c.  5.— (13)  Comp. 
the  Acts  of  the  Council,  11  Session,  Hefele,  ii.  471.— (14)  Cone.  Chal- 
cedon,  c.  8.— (15)  Muratori,  Script.  Ital.  Medii  ievi,  iii.  p.  575.— (16) 
Hieronym.  ad  Oceanum— ad  Pamraachium. — (17)  Tlie  passage  is  remark- 
able. Exposit.  in  Ev.  Joanm  tr.  xcvii.  c.  16,  "  et  xenodochia  et  monasteria 
postea  sunt  appellata  novis  nominibus,  res  tamen  et  ipsa?  et  ante  nomiiia 
sua  erant."  On  the  xenodochium  of  Leporius,  S.  Z^G,  10.— (18)  Auastas, 
pp.  82,  107,  114.— (19)  Can.  13-15.— (20)  Gregorii  M.  Ep.  viii.  14;  x.  11 ; 
iii.  24.— (21)  Du  Cange,  Constantinopolis  Christiana,  iii.  163  sqq.— (22) 
Baronius,  Ann.  eccl.  ad  a.  610. — (23)  Procopius,  de  sedificiis  Justin.  1,  2,  9, 
11.— (24)  Theodoret,  Hist.  Kelig.  c,  21.— (25)  Comp.  in  Palladius,  HisL 
Laus.  The  history  of  St.  Piterum.  Weingarten  (Ursprung  des  Mtinch- 
thums  Zeitschr.  fur  K.-Gesch.)  here  passes  an  error.  He  thinks  the  sfcite- 
ment  "  aSru  ykf  i*u  KaXturi  <reui  rarx»uva{  depends  upon  the  words  ir  t^ 
fia-yupivifTit,"  SO  that  "she  is  in  the  kitchen"  is  an  expression  cuirently 
applied  to  the  in.sane.  It  simply  depends  on  the  preceding  "  «/«.  i;c»."" 
r«x»i»." — (26)  Chrysostomus,  Hom.  66  in  Matth. — (27)  Baronius,  Ann.  ad 
610. — (28)  Histor.  Laus.  c.  6. — (29)  Compare  on  the  legal  condition  of 
institutions,  Jacobson's  article  "  Wohlthatigkeitsanstalten,"  in  Htrzog's 
Real-Enc.  xviii.  234  sqq. — (30)  Comp.  Gregory's  letter,  quoted  note  20 
above.— (31)  Corp.  Inscr.  viii.  1,  839.— (32)  Comp.  Riickert,  Cultur- 
geschichte  des  deutschen  Volkes,  ii.  345. — (33)  Gregor.  Nazianz.  Or.  30. — 
(34)  De  Vogiie,  La  Syrie  centr<ile,  Paris  1877,  pp.  128,  133.  Tlie  insorip- 
tion  on  the  pandocheion  in  Deir  Sem'an  is  as  follows  :  t  X  M  r  (Chri.stus 
Michael  Gabriel)  'Eyi»tra  ravra  ra  <r«»J»;^ir»»  i»  ^u»i  Uarr,u*>  $'  rav  X,*if'  irtut 
Xfif Ti  ^aiti. — (35)  vetpatxi/ira^TK,  comp.  Gregor.  Nyss.  Or.  30.— (36)  TIh-o- 
doret,  Hist,  Eccl.  v.  18.— (37)  Socrates,  iv.  23  :  Palladius,  Hist.  1-iiu.s.  a 
140.— (38)  Hist  Laus.  ^ifi  Ua^nnav  xeu  'Hr*?*./.— (39)  Paulinus,  Nol.  Kp. 
ad  Severum.— (40)  Gregor.  M.  Ep.  iii.  24.— (41)  Gregor.  M.  Ep.  xL  10. 


CHAPTER  V. 

(1)  Salvian,  de  gubernatione  Dei,  vi.  173.— (2)  Cone.  I^odicea,  can.  1^6. 
^De  Rossi,  Inscr.  christ.  172  ;  Hieronym,  in  Matt.  23  ;  Chrysost.  ad 
pop.  Antioch,  Hom.  xix.— (3)  Chrysost.  Hom.  in  Annam.  iv.  3.— Hom. 
6  in  Genes.  Hom.  7  in  Lazarum.  Comp.  Cod.  can.  eccl.  Afric.  61.— 
(4)  Theodoret,  Ep.  147.— (6)  Chrys.  Horn.  36  in  Cor.— (6)  Salvian,  de 

2  o 


418  NOTES. 

gubernat.  Dei,  iv.— (7)  Id.  vii.  24  :  "  Populus  Romanns  moritnr  et  ridet." 
— (8)  Horn.  30  ill  act.  ap.  Comp.  also  Neander,  Chrysostomus,  ii.  107. — 
(9)  Aristoteles,  Nicom.  Eth.  x.  7,  6-8.— (10)  Ambrosius,  do  off.  i.  11. — 
(11)  Hieronym.  Ep.  ad  Pammacluum.— (12)  Gregor.  Nazianz.  Ep.  8,  9. 
— (13)  Augustinus,  Confess,  viii.  6. — (14)  Neander,  Clirysost.  1,  90  sqq. — 
(15)  Hieronym.  Ep.  ad  Eusticum. — (16)  Cassian,  de  Instit.  Coenob.  x.  23. 
— (17)  Comp.  generally  Harnaok's  excellent  lecture. — (18)  Basil's  Ascetic 
Instructions,  iii.  1.— (19)  Basil's  Greater  Rule,  c.  37.— (20)  Id.  c.  41.— 
(21)  Id.  c.  38.— (22)  Hist.  Lausiac.  c.  39.  Theodoret,  Hist.  Relig.  c.  10. 
—(23)  Chrysost.  in  Matth.  Honi.  8.— (24)  Theodoret,  Hist.  Relig.  c.  10.— 
(25)  Sulpicius  Severus,  Dial.  ii.  8.— (26)  Id.  i.  25.— (27)  Augustinus,  de 
op.  monach.  c.  35.— (28)  Id.  c.  33.— (29)  Regul.  S.  Bencdicti,  c.  48.— 
(30)  Id.  c.  39,  40.— (31)  Basil's  Abridged  Rule,  302.— (32)  Sozomen,  i.  11. 
—(33)  Socrat.  iv.  23.— (34)  Cassian,  Instit.  Coenob.  x.  22.— (35)  August. 
de  moril.  eccl.  cathol.  i.  31.— (36)  Theodoret,  Hist.  Relig.  c.  22.— (37) 
Basil's  Greater  Rule,  15,  38,  53.  Chrysost.  adv.  ojip.  vit.  Monast.  iii. 
12  sqq.— (38)  Regula  S.  Benedicti,  c.  4.— (39)  Id.  c.  46,  53.— (41)  Gregor. 
M.  Dial.  ii.  28  j  iv.  22. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

(1)  Ambrosius,  de  offic.  ii.  29.— (2)  Cone.  Elib.  (305  or  306),  can.  56.— 
(3)  Council  of  Arle.s,  can.  7. — (4)  Basilius,  Ep.  61. — (5)  Synesii  Epp. 
67,  58,  72.— (6)  Theodoret,  H.  E.  iv.  6.— (7)  Comp.  on  Sanctuary 
Bingham's  Antiquities,  iii.  353  sqq.,  and  the  article  "Sanctuary"  in 
Herzog's  Real  -  Enc.  —  (8)  Gregor.  Nazianz.  Or,  de  laude  Basilii.  — 
(9)  Augustin.  Ep.  268. — (10)  Council  of  Orleans,  511,  can.  1.— (11)  Comp. 
Neander,  Kirch.  Gesch.  i.  490.— (12)  Council  of  Agde  (506),  can.  7.— 
(13)  Id.  can.  7.— (14)  Can.  32. —(15)  Gregor.  M.  Ep.  ix.  102. —(16) 
Council  of  Agde,  can.  56. — (17)  Council  of  Orleans  (538),  can.  26  ;  Leo 
M.  Ep.  iii.  1.— (18)  Cone.  Chalcedon,  can.  4. — (19)  Council  of  Orleans 
(541),  can.  24,— (20)  Gregor,  M.  Ep.  v.  12.— (21)  E.g.  Neander,  Kirch, 
Gesch.  ii,  52. — (22)  So  e.g.  Ratzinger  in  his  above-named  work,  p.  91. 
— (23)  Horn.  xxix.  in  Genes. — (24)  August.  Enarr.  in  Ps.  cxxiv.  7. — (25) 
Chrysost.  Horn.  29  in  Genes.;  22  in  Ep.  ad  Ephes. — (26)  Augustin.  de 
civitat.  Dei,  xix.  15.— (27)  Id.  xix.  16.— (28)  Chrysost.  Horn.  15  in  Ep. 
a(l  Eph. — (29)  Augustin.  de  civitat.  Dei,  xix.  16.  —  (30)  Augu.stin.  de 
sermone  Dom.  in  nionte,  i.  59. — (31)  Council  of  Epaon  (517),  can.  34. — 
(32)  Council  of  Orleans  (511),  can.  3. — (33)  Council  of  Epaon  (517),  can. 
39._(34)  Basilius,  Ep..  73. —(35)  Chrysost.  Horn.  40  in  1  Cor. —  (36) 
Augustin,  S.  355  and  356,  Hist.  Lausiac,  c.  19, — (37)  Le  Blant,  In.script. 
874,  379.— (38)  Neander,  Kirch.  Gesch,  ii.  53.— (39)  Comp.  Hefele,  Con- 


NOTES.  419 

ciliengesch.  i.  755.— (40)  Theodor.  Cantuar.  capit.  eccl,  c.  16.  "Gne- 
corum  monaclii  servos  non  liabeut,  Roinani  habout."  Comp.  "Wassersch- 
leben  Bussordnungen  der  abendlandischen  Kirche,  p.  146.— (41)  Council  of 
Agde,  can.  29.  Council  of  Orleans,  can.  7.— (42)  Can.  27.— (43)  Kuseb. 
Vit.  Const,  iv.  27.— (44)  Can.  13.— (45)  Council  of  Orleans  (541),  can! 
30.     Council  of  Macon,  can.   16.— (46)  Gregor.  M.  Ep.  iii.  9;  v.  31  ;  vii. 

35.  Comp.  on  slavery  generally,  Overbeck,  Studien  zur  Gesch.  der  alten 
Kirche,  i.  1875,  p.  158  sqq.— (47)  Theodoret,  Ep.  23.— (4S)  Examples  in 
Augustin.  Ep.  241.  Gregor.  M.  Ep.  i.  44.— (49)  Chrysost.  Honi.  61  in 
Matth.— (50)  Comp.  note  47  above.-  (51)  Ep.  i.  51.— (52)  Ep.  i.  3G.— (53) 
An  example  in  Gregor.  M.  Ep.  v.  12.— (54)  Basilius,  Ep.  85,  compare  also 

36,  37,  76,  83,  84,  110,  etc.— (55)  Theodoret,  Ep.  43. -(50)  Gregor.  M. 
Ep.  V.  12.— (57)  Gregor.  Nyss.  Ep.  canon  6.  — (58)  Basilius,  contra  foene- 
ratores. — Chrysostom,  Hom.  5  in  Matth.— (59)  Ambrosias,  deTobia,  c.  5,  6. 
—(60)  Id.  c.  8.-(61)  Id.  c.  14.— (62)  Cone.  Elib.  can.  20;  Laodicea, 
can.  5  ;  Carthag.  iii.  can.  16  ;  Hippo  (393),  can.  22,  etc.— (63)  Augus- 
tinus  contra  Faustu,  xix.  25  ;  Hieronymus  in  Ezech.  vi.  18.— (64)  Augus- 
tin. Ep.  268. -(65)  Gregor.  M.  Ep.  i.  44.  — (66)  Gregor.  M.  Ep.  v.  8.— 
(67)  Comp.  the  work  of  Ambrosius,  de  Nabuthe,  which  is  especially 
directed  against  such  tyranny. — (68)  Ambrosius,  de  off.  ii.  29.  Angus- 
tinus,  Ep.  252.— (69)  Baron.  Ann.  ad  a.  401,  v.  142.  Neander's  above- 
named  work,  it  115.— (70)  August.  S.  171.— (71)  Ej).  252-255.— (72) 
Synod  of  Vaison  (442),  can.  9  and  10.  Also  the  second  Synod  of  Aries 
and  the  Synod  of  Agde. — Augustinus,  Ep.  98.  "  Aliquando  etiam  quos 
crudeliter  parentes  exposuerunt  nutriendos  a  quibuslibet,  noununiquani  a 
sacris  virginibus  coUiguntur  et  ab  iis  offeruntur  ad  baptismum." — (73) 
Can.  17. — (74)  Cod.  Theod.  xv.  8,  de  lenonib.  i.  1,  2.— (75)  Ambros.  de 
off.  ii.  15.  It  is  striking  that  both  Salvian  and  Augustine  approve 
of  and  defend  houses  of  ill-fame,  Salvian  says:  "Minons  quippe  esse 
criminis  etiam  lupanar  puto  ;  raeretrices  enim,  qua;  illic  sunt,  fa'dus  con- 
nubiale  non  norunt.  Ac  per  hoc  non  maculant  i^uod  ignorant."  Augus- 
tin thinks  that  there  must  be  a  drain,  so  that  the  wliole  house  may  not  be 
infected.— (76)  Cod.  Theod.  ix.  3,  de  custoil.  reor.  i.  7.— (77)  Can.  20.— 
(78)  Ambrosius,  de  off.  iL  15.— (79)  Gregor.  M.  Epp.  iii.  17;  v.  34  ;  vi.  13, 
23,  35  ;  vii.  23.— (80)  Gregor.  M.  Epp.  iii.  17.  — (81)  Tlieodoret,  Hist.  Rel. 
c.  10.  On  the  price  of  prisoners  comp.  also  Le  Blant,  Inscript.  ii.  287. — 
(82)  Hieronym.  Ep.  125  ad  Rusticum. — (83)  Ambrosius,  de  o!r.  ii.  28. — 
(84)  Gregor.  M.  Epp.  ii.  46.— (85)  Le  Blant,  Inscr.  543.— (86)  Socrat. 
H.  E.  vii.  21.— (87)  Theodoret,  Ep.  70.— (88)  Theodoret,  Epp.  33  s<]q.— 
(89)  Comp.  especially  Siickert's  excellent  work,  Culturgesch.  der  Deutschen. 


INDEX. 


Abbot  in  a  Xenodochiam,  338. 

Acacius  of  Amida,  392. 

Agapse,  75,  89  sq,,  144,  181  sqq.,  253. 

Agde,  Synod  of,  265. 

Alimentations,  18  sqq. 

Alms,  4,  30,  34,  36,  45  sqq.,  52  sqq., 

66  sqq.,   84   sqq.,  121  sqq.,   142 

sqq.,  211. 
Alms  as  sacrifices,  149. 
Alms  sin -atoning,    211   sqq.,    279 

sqq.,  294. 
Ambrose,    228,    263   sqq.,    270  sq., 

280,  284,  297,  299,  302,  303,  305, 

364,  383,  384,  388.  390. 
Amulets,  342. 
Anchorets,  349. 
Annona,  11  sqq. 
Antioch,  Council  of,  265. 
Antoninus  Pius,  15,  18. 
Antony,  St.,  Life  of,  349. 
Apocrypha,  52,  213. 
Apostolic  legends,  135. 
Area,  22,  27. 
Arcani  disci  plina,  172. 
Aristotle,  33  sqq.,  345. 
Aries,  Synod  of,  362. 
Arsacius,  326. 
Asceticism,  127,  350. 
Assurance  of  salvation,  294. 
Astrology,  342. 
Athanasius,  363. 
Atbenagoras,  202. 
Athens,  9  sq. 
Auguries,  342. 
Augustine,  264,  275,  277,  278,  286, 

288,  294,  299,  301,  328,  347,  372, 

873,  380,  383. 


I  Banqtiets,  heathen,  24,  82. 
Baptism,  212,  284. 
Barnabas,  epistle  of,  122,  126,  211. 
Basil,  275,  296,  352,  353,  381. 
Basilias,  the,  327. 
Begging,    4,    33,    201,    243,    249, 

271. 
Benedict  of  Nursia,  355,  357,  359. 
Bisliop,  the,  as  ruler  of  the  n-lief  of 

the  poor,  161  sqq.,  246  sq.,  256  sq. 
Bishop,  the,  the  manager  of  church 

property,  260  sqq.,  306. 
Blesilla,  310. 
Blind,  the  care  of,  330. 
Brephotrophia,  330,  380. 
Bureaucracy,  the,  under  Constantino, 

221,  235. 
Burial  funds,  23. 
Burialof  the  dead,  24  sq. ,  189, 289 sqq. 

C^SAREA,  Synod  of,  248. 

Caesarius  of  Arrelate,  287. 

Calling.      See  Vocation. 

Candidus,  391. 

Capitalism,  104,  110. 

Carthage,  Synod  of,  176. 

Cassian,  358. 

Celibacy,  207,  319. 

Chalcedon,  Council  of,  261,  328. 

Chrysostom,  264,  254,  259,  274,  276, 
279  sq.,  297,  298,300,  302,  354, 
363,  372,  373,  374,  380. 

Children,  education  of,  in  monas- 
teries, 359,  386. 

Church,  tlie,  the  reliever  of  the  poor, 
56  sq.,  88,  137  sqq.,  141  sqq.,  160 
sqq.,  246  sqq. 


422 


INDEX. 


»      Church  area,  the,  27,  142. 

Church,  the,  and  charity,  57,  70  sq., 

397. 
Church,  attendance  at,  254,  378. 
Church    disciphne,  179,    205,    207, 

283. 
Church  penance,  213. 
Cliurch  prayers,  144,  147. 
Church  property,  260  sqq. 
Cicero,  303. 
Clement  of  Alexandria,  1 21, 1 29  sqq. , 

150,  169,  182,  208. 
Clement  of  Rome,  147,  210,  211. 
Clement,  book  of,  157,  164,  172. 
Clement,  epistle  of,  214. 
Clergy,  the,  mode  of  life  of,  136. 
Clientela,  17. 

Collections,  87,  94,  153  sqq.,  201. 
Collegia,  21  sqq.,  141  sqq.,  290. 
Colonia,  240,  379. 
Colonies,  16. 
Community  of  goods,  73  sqq.,  127, 

296  sq.,  300. 
Congiaria,  13. 

Constantine,  203,  219  sqq.,  385. 
Constitutions,    the   Apostolic,    135, 

1:^9,  142,  157  sq.,  162,  169,  173, 

196,  214. 
Copiates,  335. 
Corban,  143. 
Corn,  distribution  of. 
Cyprian,  120,  123,    142,  150,    152, 

153,  156,   161,  187   sq.,  207   sq., 

213  sq.,  288. 
Cyril  of  Alexandria,  361. 

Darnasus,  261. 

Deaconesses,  70,  79  sqq.,  165  sqq., 

248,  276  sq. 
Deacons,  74  sqq.,  144,  160 sqq.,  248, 

266  sqq. 
Defensores,  261,  332. 
Departed,  masses  for  the,  287,  291, 

396. 
Diocletian,  385. 
Distributions  at  graves,  25,  289. 

Eligius,  322. 

Elvira,  Synod  of,  195,  362. 

Emancipation  of  slaves,  190  sq.,  367. 


Endowments,  24  sqq.,  42,  125,  290, 

396. 
Ephraem,  327. 
Epiphanius,  172,  310. 
Episcopal  jurisdiction,  365. 
Episcopal  intercession,  384. 
Epitaplis,  24,  289,  320. 
Essenes,  126. 
Ethic,    ancient,  32,  304  sqq.,  341, 

345  sq. 
Ethic,  Cliristian,  304  sqq.,  341,  396. 
Ethic,  double,  206  sqq.,  344  sq. 
Eudainionism,  32,  304. 
Eudoxia,  384. 
Eustochium,  311. 
Exemption  of  a  hospital,  338. 
Expiations  of  the  heathen,  30. 
Exsu])erius,  390. 
Eustathius,  376. 

Fabiola,  310,  312. 

Fasting,  154  sq.,  205,  285,  350,  358. 

Financial  ruin,  118. 

Flavian  of  Antioch,  363. 

Foundlings,  186,  385. 

Free  trade,  109,  239. 

Furia,  310. 

Ganoka,  Synod  of,  297,  298,  376. 

Gazophylacium,  149,  245. 

Generosity,  34  sq. 

Gernuins,  the,  222,  231,  393. 

Gifts  to  the  Church,  255  sqq. 

Gladiatorial  games,  342. 

Gnostics,.  126. 

Good  works,  283,  293. 

Goths,  388,  393. 

Gratian,  331. 

Gregory  the  Great,  263,  285,  286, 

287,    291,    294,    332,    368,    370, 

379  sq.,  382,  389. 
Gregory  Nazianzen,  275,  278,  300, 

347,  371. 
Gregory  of  Nyssa,  307,  382. 

Hekmas,  121,  127,  128,  154. 
Hippolytus,  Canops  of,  157,  173. 
Honorius,  380. 

Hospitality,  91  sq.,  123,  198  Bqq. 
325  sqq. 


INDEX. 


423 


Hospitals,  14,  312,  323  sqq.,  395. 
Hospitia.     See  Xenodochia. 
Humanity  of  the  heathen,  19  sq.,  41. 

Ignatian  Epistles,  169. 
Institutionalism,  324  sqq.,  397. 
Intercession,  151,  185. 
Interest,  reception  of,  383. 
Interments,  24,  189. 
Irenaeus,  148,  149,  156. 
Isidor  of  Pelusium,  375. 

James,  St.,  87. 

Jerome,  256,  302,  310  sqq.,  328,  347, 

352. 
Jerusalem,  Church  of,  73  sqq. 
Jews,  the,  slave  dealers,  378  sq. 
John,  St.,  87. 

John  the  Almoner,  262,  330. 
Judaism,  Post-exilian,  51  sq.,  213. 
Julian,  271,  326. 
Justin  Martyr,  142,  149. 

National  Church,  idea  of,  206  sqq. 
Natural  products,  delivery  of,  114, 

238. 
Neocaesarea,  Council  of,  163. 
Nicea,  Council  of,  173. 
Nonna,  307. 

Oblations,  142  sqq.,  254. 

for  the  dead,  150  sq.,  287  sq. 

Old  Testament,  48  sqq. 

in  the  Church,  143,  156  sqq., 

213,  259,  268. 
Olympias,  307  sq. 
Ordination,  267,  369. 
Origen,  152,  155,  157,  207. 
Orleans,  First  Synod  of,  368,  878. 
Second  Synod  of,  267,  328,  379, 

386. 
Orosius,  230. 
Orthodoxism,  342  sq. 

Palladitjs,  336,  349. 
Pammachius,  311  sq. 
Parabolani,  335  sq. 
Pastophorium,  149. 
Paul,  St.,  82  sq. 
Paula,  310  sq.,  316. 


Paulina,  311,  316. 

Pauliuus  of  Nola,  313  sq.,  317,  318, ' 

389. 
Pela.;,'ius  II.,  328. 
Perfection,  Christian,  207,  299,  320, 

344. 
Pei-secutions  and  charity,  124,  195 

Pity  in  the  ancient  world,  37. 

Plaeilla,  336. 

Plato,  32  sq. 

Poor,  houses  for  the,  326  sqq. 

Poor,  the  amount  of  mcan.s  for  the 

relief  of,  158,  261,  330. 
Poor,  relief  of  the,  5,  'J,  30,  39,  44 

sqq.,  105,  125  sq.,  141  »{<{.,   177, 

178  sqq.,  246  sqq.,  274  s<iq.,  323 

sqq.,  358  sqq. 
Poverty,  estimation  of,  126,  146  sq., 

208,  296. 
Poverty,    extent   of,    99    sqq.,    233 

sqq.,  248  sqq. 
Poverty,  volunUirv,  209,  298. 
Prayer,  152,  213,  285. 
Presbyters,  76  S'\.,  160,  170. 
Prisoners,  190,  195,  387  s(|q. 
Private    benevolence,    88  sq.,   124, 

138  sq. 
Proletariat  in  Rome,  99. 
Prostitution,  3S7. 
Provincial  towns,  15,  100,  238. 
Purgatory,  291  »iq. 

Recluses,  350. 

Reformation,  398. 

Kep;i.sts,  Christian.     Sec  Agapae. 

Repentance,  205. 

Rome,  10  sqq.,  21,  99  s<iq. 

Salvian,    229,    257   sq.,    281   sq., 

294,  343,  348,  393. 
Sanctuary,  the    Church's    right   of, 

365. 
Sardica,  Synod  of,  3S4. 
Satisfaction  bv  good  works,  285. 
Seneca,  35,  111. 
Seven,  the,  75  s<iq. 
Sick,  the  care  of,  186  sqq.,  311. 
Sins,   forgiveness  of,  211  si^q.,  282 

•qq. 


424 


INDEX. 


Sins,  mortal,  205,  213,  283  sq. 
Sins,  venial,  284,  291  sqq. 
State  and  Church,  224  sqq. 
Stips,  22,  30,  31  sq.,  136  sqq. 
Stoicism,  35  sqq.,  58,  346. 
Strangers,  care  of,  91  sq.,  323  sqq. 
Sub-deacons,  163. 
Symmachus,  Pope,  328. 
Symmachus,  Prefect,  263. 
Synesius  of  Ptolemais,  363. 

Talmud,  54. 

Taxation,   100,    105,   113   sq.,    234 

sqq.,  381. 
TertuUian,   23,   27,    127   sq.,    132, 

142,  150,  181  sq. 
Testamentary     bequests       to      the 

Church,  258,  331. 
Thalassius,  330. 
Theodoret,  380,  381,  392. 
Theodosius  I.,  271,  364. 
Theodosius  II.,  335,  361,  386,  391. 
Thomas  Aquinas,  396. 
Tithes,  46,  122,  148,  156  sq.,  259. 
Toledo,  Synod  of,  386. 
Tours,  Syno4  of,  260. 
Tribute,  reception  of,  383. 


TruUa,  Council  of,  253,  269. 

Universalism,  38  sq.,  41, 49, 59,67. 
Usury,  48,  111,  242,  381  sqq. 

Valens,  223,  388. 

Valentinian  I.,  256,  386. 

Valentinian  II.,  271. 

Vandals,  388,  392. 

Victor,  Pope,  137. 

Vif;ilantiu.s,  319  sq. 

Vocation,    83   sq.,    136,    317,    319, 

397. 
Vows  of  the  heathen,  30. 

Wealth,  greatness  of,  104,  241. 
Wealth,    estimation    of,    127   sqq., 

146  sq.,  208  sq. 
Widows,   care  of,    45,   90  sq.,   184 

sq.,  323,  361,  384  sq. 
Wiclows,  hou.ses  for,  184. 
Widows,    institution    of,    80     sq., 

165  .sqq.,  184,  267. 
Worship,  connection  between,   and 

charity,  30  sqq.,  145,  394. 

Xenodochia,  267,  323  sqq. 


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